


Muddy Soul

by Impala_Dreamer



Series: Muddy Soul [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Extreme Physical and Mental Abuse, Extreme angst, F/M, Gen, Magic, Manupulative and Abusive Relationships, Mental Manipulation., Mind Control, Multi, Murder, NSFW, Panic Attacks, Severe PTSD, Sexual Situations, Show level angst and beyond, Some Romance, dubcon, noncon, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29920530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~ Life isn’t always as it seems and people aren’t who they say they are. Love isn’t always a good thing, and sometimes, finding out the hard way may just kill you. ~
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, OMC/You, Sam Winchester/You
Series: Muddy Soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200311
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Dean kicked down the last door; the muddy sole of his boot leaving a print on the dusty wood as it splintered. The lock gave, deadbolt cracking through the frame as the force of his anger broke it open. It creaked and protested but did as commanded, swinging back on its rusty hinges and slamming into the wall behind. 

His eyes dilated in the utter darkness, and he blinked hard as his shadow appeared on the blood stained concrete laid out before him. He lifted his gun, small flashlight set atop the barrel, dying yellow beam helping him to check the cellar.

Water dripped in a corner, plopping like a dart loudly into a puddle. He listened as he looked, Hunter’s ears picking up the faint sound of strained breathing. 

The light panned the room but saw nothing.

Dean cursed under his breath and turned, ready to meet Sam back by the stairs, but the rattle of a chain made him freeze. 

“De…”

His heart leapt and sank in the same moment so fast and painful he was sure it was a heart attack. 

“Y/N!” 

The flashlight dipped down and he saw her, body bruised and caked in blood, wrists cuffed to chains hung front the stone walls. Her eyes fluttered over his face and a disbelieving smile turned her lips. 

“Sam! In here!” Dean called for his brother as he sank to his knees, powersliding across the space between and looking her over. His hands hovered over her body, unsure of where to land. She was thin and starved, cheekbones prominent, lips cracked and bleeding. He could see the bones in her wrist, the cuffs having long ago rubbed the skin raw. Her skin was swelling in the wrong places, hollow in others, nearly every inch covered in variously aged bruises and gashes. Yet her hair was clean, gently brushed back and tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were painted in thick charcoal and heavy mascara. A collar of hammered gold fit around her throat that shone in the light pouring in, and her body was draped in white lace, a nightgown made for a bride. 

Tears welled but he pushed them aside, careful laying a hand on her cheek. 

Y/N flinched so hard she screamed, having been startled from the only comfortable position she had anymore; lying on her left side, knees tucked high and protective, cheek on the icy floor. 

“Baby, it’s me,” he whispered, leaving her cheek to examine the cuffs. “Sam’s here. We’re gonna get you home and fixed up, OK?” Even he could hear the lie in his voice. He honestly had no idea if she would survive the drive back, but he kept his tone light and his smile sweet whether she could see it or not. 

“Dean?” Her voice was cracked and shaking as he opened the first cuff. 

“Yeah, Baby,” he smiled, leaning closer. “It’s me. You’re safe.” 

Her eyes slammed shut as his face came closer and she shook her head violently. “No. No. No!” 

The second cuff took no time and Y/N scrambled away from him as soon as she was free, hiding herself in the corner by the dripping water, uncaring of the cold as it soaked into her dress. “Please, no!” 

Dean sat back on his heels and stared, jaw apape, eyes wide with worry. “Y/N, it’s me,” he tried again, softening his voice. “It’s Dean.” 

Her face twisted hard, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she tried not to scream. Boney hands rose to her hair and she pulled, nearly ripping the long locks from her scalp. “No!” 

Sam’s form darkened the doorway and Y/N looked up, her eyes huge and terrified. The scream died silent in her throat and Dean could see the tell-tale signs of her panic, the tightness in her arms, body contracting in on itself, the pause of breath. 

Dean reached for her, but she shrank back even farther into the wall. He turned as he stood, looking for help. “Shit. Sam, we gotta get her outta here.” 

Sam nodded quickly, his concern locked on Y/N. “Yeah.” 

“Did you get him?” 

Hazel eyes turned to green, and Sam shook his head, a silent ‘no’ breaking Dean’s heart all over again. 

“Son of a bitch.” 

\---

It took some time to get her to the car.

Y/N couldn’t walk, could barely breathe, speak, do little more than stare at them and scream. She wouldn’t let Dean come close, so in the end, Sam carried her to the Impala and helped her lay down in the back seat. She shivered against the leather. Her feet were bare and her arms were too thin; Sam covered her with the gray wool blanket from the trunk and she grabbed his fingers as they reached her chin. 

“Don’t let me go,” she whispered, throat raw and dry. 

Sam looked down into her eyes and nodded firmly. “Never.” 

Though still visibly shaking, she seemed to calm as his voice washed over her. It was familiar and warm, true. She closed her eyes and Sam squeezed her fingers reassuringly before she went limp, falling into the troubled blackness inside her head. 

“What the fuck do we do?” Dean asked, eyes bouncing between the road and the rearview. He couldn’t see her enough, she was too cocooned in the blanket, but he watched carefully for the rise and fall of her staggered breathing.

Sam dropped his fingers from the bridge of his nose and shook his head, unsure. “We call Cas when we get back and he can…he can heal her up.” 

Headlights from a passing car lit their faces as the brothers looked to each other. 

“Gonna need more than Cas,” Dean grit, his knuckles blanching as he gripped the wheel. “She wouldn’t let me touch her, Sam. What the hell?” 

Again, Sam shook his head. There was no answer, no soothing words he could give. “I don’t know, Dean. We don’t know what he did to her.” 

The muscles in Dean’s jaw twitched and his nostrils flared. “That’s another thing,” he growled, shifting in his seat while gunning the engine. “We’re gonna find this son of a bitch and I’m gonna kill him.” 

Sam watched the rage brewing in his brother’s face, the tightness of his lips, the sinewy muscles in his arms tighten as he steered the Impala off onto the exit ramp. He could feel the rage, the heat pushing across the bench seat and it scared him just a little bit. “Yeah,” he agreed finally, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I know.” 

\--

Castiel did what he could, laying his hands over her body, healing the internal bleeding, the fracture in her ankle. She screamed as he worked, her mind filled with impossible demons and flashes of the trauma she’d endured. He sealed the cuts and erased the visible scars, stopped the swelling in her brain and then sent her into a dreamless sleep. She lay peaceful in Dean’s bed, her hair fanned out across the pillow, body limp as Castiel drew the tan blanket over her body. 

Dean was leaning against the wall opposite the door, ankles crossed, one arm folded over his chest, the other lifting a finger to toy with his upper lip. The crease between his brows was deep, the wetness in his gaze obvious. He hadn’t even washed the dirt from his hands or changed his blood-splattered shirt yet. 

“How is she?” He didn’t look up as Cas gently shut the door, keeping his eyes on the tiled floor until Castiel’s polished shoes came into view. 

The Angel sighed and wrung his hands, physically and spiritually tired from the expenditure of his dwindling Grace. “She had several broken bones, including two ribs- one that had begun to pierce her lung. She was bleeding internally in multiple places; a few infected cuts along her inner thighs and breasts. Severe concussion, evidence of sexual-”

Dean held up a hand as his shoulders stiffened. “I get it.” 

“Dean, she’s going to be alright.” 

Green eyes lifted heavily. “Is she?” 

Castiel nodded. “I’ve healed her physical wounds.”

Dean sucked his tongue and looked away. “Yeah. Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course. But, Dean… she’s not-”

Dean had already kicked away from the wall, a single boot pushing his body back into motion as he moved towards the door, brushing past the angel. “I said, thanks.” 

She didn’t stir when he opened the door, didn’t scream as he approached the bed. Cas had knocked her out good and Dean almost envied her. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours since she’d been taken, hadn’t been able to close his eyes without his mind jumping to the worst case scenario in every direction. 

In the past three weeks, he’d watched the memory of Y/N die a thousand different ways, heard her scream for him, against him. Pray for him to save her, curse him for not. He’d felt the pain, the sting, and somehow, even having her home wasn’t easing that ache around his heart. 

He pulled the desk chair up to the foot of the bed and sat, elbows on his knees, eyes on hers. 

She didn’t dream; her eyes were still beneath peaceful lids. Her lips were parted gently and Dean could hear her gentle exhales as her healed lungs moved freely. 

“I should have come sooner,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand down his tired face as he sat back. “I’m so sorry.” 

...


	2. Chapter 2

“Heads up!” 

Dean did just that, looking up from his laptop just in time to have a beer tossed in his face. “Whoa!”

Y/N laughed as she climbed the stairs into the Library and handed Sam one of the remaining beers in her arms. “Nice catch.” She winked and Dean rolled his eyes to avoid showing off the blush that fired up in his cheeks. 

“How come you gently hand Sam his and mine goes for a catapult ride?” he asked, sitting back as he tapped the beer top to settle the fizz. 

“Dunno,” she shrugged, pulling out the closest chair and turning towards him. “Just like the look on your face when you’re startled. Your ears go all red.” 

Dean scoffed and cracked the can open. “They do not.” 

Sam laughed. 

Dean shot him a look. “You shuddup.” 

“Anyway!” Y/N announced, clearing her throat and kicking her socked feet up on Dean’s lap. “What we got?”

Sam stifled his amusement and turned his computer around so she could see. “Martin Olson, forty-three year old lawyer from Binderville, was found dead yesterday, his insides on the outside.” 

Y/N slurped up the beer that had escaped onto the rim when the top was cracked. “Outside of what?” 

Sam coughed. “His body.”

Dean leaned over as he took a sip. “He was reversed,” he said with a grin and a strange hand gesture. “Skin flipped totally inside out.” 

Y/N grimaced and sat up. “That’s just… nasty. And also… how?”

Dean shrugged and Sam sighed. “Exactly.” He pulled the laptop back to himself and clicked through a few buttons. “This follows Kitty Lupo, sixty, who was found last week with a stomach so stuffed full of hard candies that she choked to death as her stomach ripped away from the… connecting piping.” 

Y/N shivered and gagged a bit. 

“Three other victims, all dead from random and seemingly impossible causes.” Sam sat back from the table and pulled the pencil from behind his ear, tossing it onto the table. 

Y/N watched as it rolled, stopped only by the beer can. “They have anything in common?” 

“Not a thing except for gruesome, painful, strange deaths.” 

Dean absently dropped his hand to Y/N’s ankle as he listened. 

“So, not a Trickster, you think?” she asked, only sparing a side glance and half a smile as Dean’s thumb brushed over the naked space between her sock and jeans.

He replied for Sam, letting his head roll dramatically towards her. “Nope. Doesn’t fit.”

She huffed in mock offense. “Fits a little.”

Dean matched her playful tone. “Does it?”

To hide her grin, Y/N chewed the corner of her lip. “Can I drive?”

His answer was silent and in the negative which earned a pout. “You can drive when you stop braking so damn hard.” 

Y/N gasped and clutched pearls that weren’t there. “That was like…once, and you’re welcome for not hitting that deer!”

Dean laughed fully, his deep voice filling the cavernous room. “There was no deer!”

“There so was! It was huge!”

Sam, having seen where arguments such as these usually lead, gathered up his laptop and beer, and headed off to pack. Something was going down in Binderville, and clearly, he was going to have to be the one to figure it out.

\---

The drive wasn’t a long one and Dean and Y/N had banged out their fake argument rather quickly so all was well inside the Impala. Well, all would have been well, but someone had left half a taquito under the backseat and it was a little rancid.

Still, the drive was nice. Early November offered Kincade-esque scenery and the air was crisp but not cold as it flowed through the open windows. 

Y/N sat in the backseat in her usual spot behind Sam, case file laid out next to her as she scrolled through the articles on her laptop. 

“Sam?”

He turned just a bit. “Hmm?”

Suddenly all business, the words rushed from Y/N’s lips as she continued to go over the coroner reports. “What’s your working theory here? It feels like a witch but there’s not really anything to substantiate that. I mean, the ways they’re going screams Trickster to me, yet something is off about that as well. A few of them have gone so unironically that it would almost bore a true Trickster. Everything feels very witchy, but then again… Thoughts?” 

Dean shifted in his seat to lean his left elbow on the window ledge and hide a smile behind his hand. He loved listening to her detective voice. 

Sam shrugged heavily. “I agree. I’m going witch on this one. There has to be some sort of connection that we aren’t seeing.”

“According to the files, the only thing any of them had in common was proximity to Saint Ambrose Church. But again, that’s pretty much the entire town, so…”

Dean perked up. “Saint Ambrose?” 

“Patron saint of beekeepers,” she replied. 

“Why?” 

“No clue.”

“No, why do you know that?”

“No clue.” 

Dean laughed. “Fair enough. So, you think someone’s got something against bees?”

Y/N shrugged. “A lot of people do, but I don’t actually think that has anything to do with it. The victims just seem to live in a rather crude circle around this old church is all.” 

Once more, Dean shifted, except this time to sit straight behind the wheel and grip it tighter. “Well, that’s where we start then.”

Y/N closed her computer and sat back, watching the back of Dean’s head as he stepped on the gas. “Make it so, Number One.” 

\---

Five bereaved family visits, one vomit-inducing trip to the morgue, and three exasperated internal screams later, they were no closer to figuring anything out. Quite literally, the only thing the vics had in common were painful deaths and the inability to have open caskets at their funerals, all of which were scheduled to take place at St. Ambrose’s.

Y/N followed the guys down the steps of the police station, having a bit of trouble walking in her heels down the narrow stones. The faster they walked, the slower she seemed to go, and nearly fell down the last few as her heel caught in a disintegrating bit of mortar. 

“You motherfu-”

Two handsome Wincester heads snapped around and Dean reached for Y/N before she took a tumble. 

“You alright?” His hand wrapped warmly around hers, holding on until gravity resumed. 

She smiled tightly, trying to hide her annoyance at the world. “Yes, thank you.” She gave Dean a little squeeze and he slowly let go. “But also no,” she declared once he’d turned back around. 

He spun again and Sam cocked his head. 

“What’s up?” 

“This is getting us nowhere and I’m tired,” she growled, hobbling towards Sam and wagging a finger up at him. “Also, these shoes fucking suck.”

Dean looked down at the thin heels and then let his eyes drift upwards over the taught curve of her calves and ass beneath the gray pencil skirt. “Yeah, but they make your ass look spectac-”

“Shut up,” she snapped, pointing a finger in warning at him. “You two need to go look for hex bags and shit at each of the homes. I…this has to be a witch. It has to be.”

Sam nodded in agreement but Dean’s face contorted oddly. “Since when are you in charge?” 

Y/N’s eyes grew wide and then narrowed menacingly at Dean. “Since right now.”

With a visible gulp, he threw his hands up and backed away. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

Sam held in his laugh but Y/N saw it clearly and smiled. “You gonna go check out the church?” he asked. 

“Yes.” She patted his shoulder, then hooked her hand in his elbow for support. “After I change these fucking shoes…”

...


	3. Chapter 3

Despite being a town of little over three thousand people, St. Ambrose’s Church was practically a cathedral. It towered over the other buildings on Main Street and seemed completely out of place given the small-town feel of the surrounding area. It dwarfed the maple trees that lined the carefully maintained sidewalks; its four steeples rising high into the clouds. In classic style, a large, circular stained glass window loomed above the double mahogany doors, collecting sunlight to churn into rainbows for the parishioners inside. 

Y/N took stock of the enormous limestone building before climbing the steps in her flats, thankful that she’d stopped at the motel to change before heading back out. Sure, they didn’t make that awesome clicking noise when running down a vacant hallway while being chased by a monster, but… she was also able to run down the vacant hallway while being chased by the monster instead of tripping over her heels every four seconds. Flats were better. Sneakers were best, but they didn’t go with the get-up. Federal agents always dressed professionally and the lie was in the details. Oh, how she longed to go undercover as a lazy college student who sat around in pjs watching Netflix and eating cheetos all day. 

The narthex was empty and Y/N spent a few moments scanning the pamphlets laid out on the table, poking at the canned food donation box, and taking note of the extreme silence of the old building. Through the long windows and open archway, she could see into the sanctuary and saw that a few pews were occupied, rather sparsely, with townsfolk come to pray and find peace in the presence of God. 

Y/N wished she could shake them all and tell them the truth about Chuck and his glorious bullshit, but if it gave them comfort to believe in something better, who was she to take that away? 

Even as the idea crossed her mind, a tall man sitting in the middle of a pew on the left hand side turned to look at her, his blue eyes aglow with sunlight from the stained glass above and around him. He stared at her for only a second, but something in that stare made Y/N shiver. She struggled to set his face in her mind, but he looked away before it could take hold in her memory. Almost as quickly as it came, the shiver was gone, and Y/N was back to her task, walking through the archway in search of the priest. 

Father Thomas was an older man with a full head of gray hair and tiny round glasses that perched on the tip of his nose reminding Y/N a little too much of Benjamin Franklin. She flashed her badge but it didn’t really matter, he simply looked into her eyes and believed anything she said. 

“So, the victims were all active members of your parish?” Y/N asked, following Father Thomas across the carpeted aisle towards the confessional booths. 

“Sadly, yes,” he replied, bowing his head for a moment as if to pray for the souls of his departed flock. “I knew Martin for many years. His passing has been… hard on a lot of people.” 

“I bet.” Stuck on what to say, Y/N crossed her arms and let her eyes pass over the seats again. Most eyes were closed and heads were ducked, foreheads tucked against folded hands, or locked on the statues above and aside the altar. All but one. The man with the blue eyes was sitting casually in his pew, arms stretched out against the back, his eyes closed, head tipped upwards. A smile lingered on his lips that unnerved Y/N terribly and she looked away just as his chin began to fall. “Do you always have such a crowd during the week?” she asked, distracting herself.

The priest smiled kindly. “You don’t believe anymore, do you?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely an acknowledgement. 

Y/N laughed softly. “Not in your way, Father. But…I do.” 

“There’s no right way to believe,” he said, startling Y/N just a bit, “as long as you believe. There rest is up to you.”

She smiled. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Father Thomas looked at his watch and frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, I do need to be getting back to work.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.” Y/N nodded and turned away, the heaviness of a job left unaccomplished weighing on her shoulders. 

“Agent?”

She stopped and looked back. 

“Feel free to stay a while,” he said with a kind smile. “Perhaps it will do you some good.” 

Her pocket vibrated just in time and Y/N waved a farewell before dragging her phone from its hiding place. 

‘Think we got something. Haul ass back to the room. Bring coffee.’

“Bring coffee,” she muttered, rolling her eyes at Dean’s text. Of course. She was just the coffee girl today. Let the big boys do all the heavy lifting. “Whatever.” 

She spun towards the center aisle but spotted a row of candles on the opposite side of the chapel. They were tucked away beneath a granite statue of who she assumed was Saint Ambrose, though she had no evidence either way. The flames flickered high in their red glass holders, row upon row of prayers burning upwards to an empty Heaven. She found it sad, yet oddly comforting, and Y/N pulled a dollar bill from her purse to shove in the donation box as she knelt on the bench in front of the candles. 

It had been a thousand years since she’d prayed and the words escaped her. What was there to pray for anyway? She could pray for Sam and Dean, for Jody and the girls. She could pray for Castiel, but that seemed kind of odd. Who was listening anyway? 

Y/N lit the already charred end of the thin wooden lighter with one candle and dipped it into another, watching as the wick caught, shooting a tiny yellow flame upwards into the shadowy corner. 

‘For the bees’, she thought, exhaling deeply and resting her elbows on the bench. It wasn’t much of a prayer, but it was better than nothing. 

The carpet muffled his steps, but her instincts caught the movement. Y/N spun as she stood, shooting up onto her feet as the blue-eyed man approached. 

“Aren’t there better things to pray for than bees?” he asked; an intriguing smile playing on his lips. 

Y/N startled, her heart jumping right into her throat the way it always did when confronted by a handsome face. And he was handsome. Upclose, she could see the pale brightness of his eyes, the thick blond lashes. His hair was dark blond and on the long side but brushed back behind his ears; his lips were pink and full, his hands big, fingers long and thick. 

She pushed down the surprise and shrugged, sending up a defensive mask to cover her interest. “I don’t know. Aren’t they going extinct? Also, I like honey.” She laughed at herself before the real question sank in. “Wait. How did you-”

A shrug of broad shoulders beneath a tight burgundy sweater. “I’m magic.”

His tone was playful, but Y/N felt it all too distinctly. He was magic, she could feel it. Or, rather, she felt something definitely out of the normal. It was pulsing off of him like a psychedelic wave of invisible colors and she could feel it dragging across her skin like a thousand tiny pinpoints of pleasure. 

She reached for the gun hiding in its holster beneath her jacket, fingers quickly wrapping around the warm metal, ready to draw. “Is that so?” 

A flash of perfect teeth in a mockingly sweet smile. “Yes.”

Y/N pulled the gun from its bed, still hiding it beneath the gray fabric. 

“But no,” he continued, voice deep and soothing, “not the witch you’re looking for. Not a witch at all, really.” 

Again, she was pushed so far off the rails that she nearly staggered forward, her train of thought missing its connection. “How do you know-”

“That you’re a hunter? That you’re here with the infamous Winchesters investigating the recent rush of ridiculously unrealistic murders that has overtaken this town in the last few weeks?” 

Y/N nearly laughed even as she studied him; her eyes narrow and suspicious. "Yeah…that.”

“Lucky guess.”

He took a step and Y/N countered, skirting the bank of prayer candles as she backed up. “Really.”

“Also,” he confessed, dipping his chin so he could look up at her as a few wayward locks of hair fell into his eyes. “I may have glimpsed a sigil tattoo on your neck as you brushed your hair back earlier. Only one type of person wears that symbol, let alone has it inked into their skin forever.”

Her fingers relaxed on the gun as he took another step closer. His eyes were almost white in the candlelight, rimmed in the most breathtaking blue she’d ever beheld. They held her gaze, digging in so deeply that Y/N felt her breath catch for longer than her lungs pleased. 

Trying to regain her composure, she cleared her throat and turned up the attitude. “OK, fine. So you know some things. Awesome. Lots of people do.”

“I know more than you think, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Her breath escaped too quickly and she stepped away, tripping a bit as the carpet gave way to stone. “So you’re not my witch yet you know me, know what I’m doing here, who I am. What are you?”

There was nowhere for her to go and she couldn’t make her legs move anyway. He stepped closer still, stopping only when her back hit the wall and his shoes clicked on the stone floor. His breath pushed out across her face like a warm kiss and Y/N felt her body relax despite the warning screaming in her head. 

"I’m…just some ancient magic,” he whispered, his aura pulsing into her, knocking her thoughts away. “Nothing to worry about.”

And suddenly, she truly felt as if there was nothing to worry about. It seemed to make sense the longer she stared into his eyes, the closer he came. Her shoulders drooped and her knees went weak, thankful for the stones behind her; she felt a rush of warmth through her system and her pussy throbbed with arousal as he gently licked his lips and smiled. 

He was gone before she blinked again, spinning around in his shining shoes on the thin carpet. He didn’t look back, but he didn’t rush off either, casually pushing his big hands into the pockets of his charcoal slacks and making his way back down the aisle. 

Y/N shook herself, feeling his spell lift the farther away he moved. 

“Hey! Wait!” Her voice echoed embarrassingly in the chapel and she cringed at her rudeness. 

A smirk over his shoulder; a subtle wink. “Check your pocket.”

She fumbled around, momentarily forgetting what a pocket was and where she could find one. “What the?” Tucked away in her left jacket pocket was a neatly folded bit of heavy parchment. She stared at it for a long moment before looking back up, knowing she should follow the man, but he was already long gone. A painful shiver hit her spine and she shook with it. “What the shit is going on?”

Black ink on textured paper, written in classical script with a fountain pen, Y/N found the information she needed.

_Your grand witch, Melinda Walters, resides at 1332 Stillwater Drive and will be home this evening after nine._

_Yours,_

_Christian_


	4. Chapter 4

“Wait, who the fuck is Christian?” 

Dean peered suspiciously over his coffee, still annoyed that Y/N hadn’t thought to bring donuts as well. 

She shrugged and picked at the plastic tab on her takeaway cup. “I have literally no idea.”

“And you don’t think this is a problem?” Plump lips pouted questioningly before taking a sip of coffee. 

“I guess?” 

Dean nearly choked. Not because of Y/N, but because the coffee was far hotter than he’d expected. “You guess?” 

“I don’t know!” Her defenses were up higher than her shoulders as she looked to the ceiling for answers to appease him. “I guess it’s a problem, yeah. He was just… there. And he… Look, he gave us the info we need, can’t we just leave it at that?” 

Sam finally stepped in, more to shut down a fight before it ensued than anything else. He stood between the table and bed, blocking Dean and Y/N from each other’s view and held out his hand. “Let me see the paper again.” 

Reluctantly, Y/N handed it over. “It was just weird, OK? But… I don’t know why, but I trust him. I just do.” Nearly sliding out of her chair, she looked around Sam at Dean and pleaded. “So trust me, OK?”

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam examined the parchment. 

“This is old.” He turned it in his hands, long fingers feeling the grit of the fibers and the deep impression left by the pen. “Who writes like this anymore?” 

Y/N shrugged and sat back with her coffee. “I don’t know, but it’s classy as hell.” 

A sarcastic laugh followed by a loud slurp echoed through the room. “I can be classy…” 

“Right. Sure ya can,” Y/N scoffed. 

Sam frowned, his dimples popping as the duo continued their usual banter. “Y/N-” He stepped between their eyeline again and caught her attention. “Do you remember anything about this guy? What did he look like? Did he say anything else? What exactly happened?” 

Y/N swallowed a sip of coffee and nodded. “Of course I do. He was- uh…” Her brain seemed to cut itself off, or rather, any thought she had felt like it hit a wall. “He was…tall? And…hair of some…color? I…” Her forehead creased deeply as she tried to think and suddenly it was as if someone whacked her in the head with a crowbar. “Holy shit!”

She doubled over in pain, clutching her temples, and somehow, Dean got to her before Sam. He dropped to his knees at her feet and looked up into her face, hands hovering over her shoulders as she ground her teeth so loudly it was audible. 

“What’s happening!” Dean placed his hands over hers, covering the sides of her face and she opened her eyes to find him staring. “Y/N/N?”

Her name rang from his lips like a bell and she calmed almost instantly; the pain receding as she lost herself in a blanket of familiar, comforting green. “Dean.” She smiled softly and then pulled away, embarrassed by his obvious worry, his cautious affection. “I’m fine, go away,” she snapped, sitting back and waving him off. 

Dean shook his head sadly and then rocked back on his heels before popping up. His hands sank into his pockets and he kicked at the olive carpet as Y/N pretended to be fine. 

“You wanna share with the class?” he asked finally, having given up on her offering the information freely. 

“Hmm?” She batted her eyes innocently, but Dean chewed his lip angrily so she gave in. “I don’t know- massive random headache. It happens.” She threw her hands up in defeat and shrugged. “Who knows where headaches come from, Dean. Do you? Did you go to medical school while I was at the donut shop getting your coffee?” 

Dean gasped. “I knew it! I could smell powdered sugar on you when you walked in.” Eyebrows raised, he leaned in, examining her lips for traces of smuggled sugar. “You ate one, didn’t you?”

“I ate nothing,” she countered, her face a mask of defiance. 

“You ate my donut.”

Y/N licked at the corner of her lip teasingly. “How was that ever yours?” 

Again, Sam stepped between them. “Hello!” 

“Hi.” Y/N smiled up at him. 

Flustered by her adorable answer, Sam shook his head. “No. Listen. What just happened? You nearly passed out. And you can’t remember a thing about this person. What’s going on?” 

Irked that her cuteness wasn’t working on him, Y/N stood up and spun away from both Winchesters. “I don’t know, OK? I went to the church, I interviewed the priest, I checked out the… stuff there. I lit a candle for the bees. This dude pushed me up against the wall, left a note in my pocket. Then I went to get a donut, then I went back to get the coffee because I forgot… and here we are! I don’t know what to tell you. Sometimes headaches just happen, Sam!” She huffed out his name in finality and crossed her arms as she avoided their gazes.

Dean’s face was twisted up, his brain bouncing between two ideas, not knowing which to be more angry about. “You forgot the co- Wait, he pushed you against the wall? What!”

Her jaw dropped as she remembered the feeling, the warmth of his body so close, backing her slowly up until her spine hit stone. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and her cunt, and she swallowed hard. “It wasn’t like that,” she assured them. “It was more of a… walking backwards kinda deal.” 

Sam’s eyes became slits as he leaned close, just as angry. “Did he touch you?”

“What!” Y/N laughed. “No, he didn’t touch me! We were in church. Gross.” A deep tingling sparked inside of her and Y/N found herself wishing that he had touched her. She would have let him too; let him slam her back into the wall and shove his hands up her skirt, tear her panties aside to feel her wetness…

Dean clapped his hands three times in front of her face before the daydream lifted and Y/N jumped. 

“What?” 

Dean shook his head and turned away. “There’s something wrong with you, Y/N/N. This isn’t good.” 

Y/N sighed. “It’s fine. I was just thinking-”

“About?” Sam asked, still looking at her as if she were some clue to place in their puzzle.

“About donuts, OK? Thinking that I shoulda gotten the Boston Creme. Lay off.”

“Y/N…”

She could have laughed it off, moved on, changed the subject, but her nipples were aching and her mouth was dry. She couldn’t stop smelling the candles and seeing the burgundy sweater. She couldn’t picture his face and it was driving her nuts. “Fuck.” 

Without another word, she took over the bathroom, slamming the door in Sam’s face as he tried to call to her. 

“What the hell, dude?” Dean whispered, slapping Sam’s arm to grab his attention. 

Sam shrugged. “I have no idea. She gets flustered sometimes, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine,” Dean argued, going back for his coffee. “And now I really want donuts.”

...


	5. Chapter 5

1332 Stillwater Drive was, without exemption, one of the biggest houses Y/N had ever seen, which made her seriously question whether she was on the right career path. Maybe witches knew what was up; Y/N certainly did not. 

While Y/N had been relieving her tension in the shower, Sam had dug up everything and anything he could on Melinda Walters and anyone associated with her. Turns out, their witch was the Grand Coven leader for the area, and certainly used her skills to gain not only an influential rich husband with political aspiration, but also the deeds to most of the real estate in the tri-county, thereby increasing her wealth exponentially. It seemed she was only in it for the cash, but the trail of bodies said otherwise. 

Most of the lights in the giant white house were on, illuminating the long windows and most of the street. Sheer curtains blurred the interior from outside eyes, but there was movement inside; a feminine shadow moved back and forth through the first floor, finally settling in what appeared to be the living room. 

Dean checked his gun and reached for the door. “This should be easy. You can hang back if you want,” he told Y/N, his eyes focused on her reflection in the rearview. Her annoyed reply was silent but her look chilled and excited him. As always, she was ready to go and would not be benched. “OK then.” He winked and she smiled, rolling her eyes before she jumped from the car. 

\---

Melida Walters was resting quietly on her pristine white chaise lounge with a generous glass of red wine, flipping through a paperback novel. She didn’t startle when the trio entered the room, made no move to even look up as three pistols took aim. She sipped her wine and then held up her book, looking at Y/N as she showed off the unrealistically muscular man on the cover. 

“Do you ever read these?” she asked, voice light and accent proper. “Absolute garbage. And the models on the cover? No man looks like that.” She laughed and tossed the book to the end of the sofa by her stockinged feet. 

A little thrown off by the casual conversation, Y/N laughed under her breath and gripped her gun a little tighter. “Nah, I don’t have time for crap like that. And… some men do look like that,” she added, sparing half a glance at Sam standing next to her. 

Melinda caught the look and shifted her gaze to Sam, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. “Oh, you are right about that. Hello, Sam.” 

His cheeks turned red and his jaw twitched as he grit his teeth, disgusted by the unwanted attention. “So you know who we are. That takes care of that.” 

Melida swung her legs over the side of the lounge and scooted forward, her dress pulling up on her thighs a few inches, promising a delightful view should Sam ask to see it. “Oh, The Winchesters don’t roll into town without people talking.” She laughed softly, beautiful painted lips curling in a sexy smile. “You really should think about ditching that car; it’s a dead giveaway.” 

Dean growled in the back of his throat. “No thanks. We’re good.” 

The witch turned her brown eyes to Dean, but was less impressed with what she saw, much to Dean’s annoyance. “You’re rude,” she announced, half a sneer overtaking her charming smile. 

Dean shrugged and threw her a smile, lifting his gun. “And you’re an evil bitch who’s been ripping her neighbors apart for weeks.” He paused as she gasped. “Oh, sorry,” he corrected sarcastically, “witch.”

“How dare you,” she shot back, rather calmly. “I might be a witch, a very… powerful witch,” she added, turning her lustful eye back on Sam who shivered painfully. “But I’m not a murderer.” Eyes still on Sam’s package, she lifted her wine glass and took a long sip, leaving a kiss behind on the crystal. 

Y/N cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but I feel like, if you’re using your magic to kill people, you’re still killing them. Even if you don’t actually get your hands dirty.” 

Melinda shrugged. “Perhaps. But that’s not what’s happening.” She set the wine glass down and went to stand. 

Something snapped inside Y/N and a ball of rage swelled in her gut. “Wait, why are we even having a fucking conversation? You’re a fucking witch, there are dead people. End of fucking discussion.” 

“You need to watch your language in my home, Miss.”

Y/N shook her head and pulled the trigger, but Melinda was faster, sending a wave of red energy across the room to knock Y/N off of her feet. The shot went off, bullet denting the ornate tin ceiling. 

“Well, that’s just shame,” Melinda sighed, looking upwards and setting her hands on her hips. 

She was calm, but the boys were far from it. Sam rushed to Y/N’s side to check on her while Dean advanced, rushing the witch with pure hatred in his eyes. 

He landed next to Y/N, groaning as he took the fall badly on his lower back. 

Sam turned quickly and shot from his knees, catching Melinda off guard and wounding her shoulder. She fell back with a muted scream, blood pouring down her back onto the white sofa. 

In pain but not defenseless, she shot sparks of electricity at Sam as he approached, holding him at bay as long as she could. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked pathetically, out of steam and fight.

Sam towered over her, his gun aimed properly at the space between her pretty eyes. 

“Because this is what we do.”

\---

Y/N stood in line at the diner, cell phone pressed to her ear as Dean rambled on about extra onions and pie. She was exhausted and achy from her unexpected flight and subsequent crash landing, something that, no matter how many times it occurred, she just could not get used to. 

“Yeah, yeah. Onions. I know.” She sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck; still creaky and probably growing a nice bruise. “Listen, they don’t have pie.” 

On instinct, she pulled the phone from her ear, knowing a yell was on its way. 

“I’ll stop and get donuts, OK? Will that appease your precious tummy?” 

The waitress behind the counter waved at Y/N and set her order down. 

“Yeah, I’ll be back in ten. Just calm yourself.” She hung up before further protest and smiled apologetically at the waitress. “Sorry.” 

“Hungry kids at home?” the older woman asked. 

“Something like that. Hungry men.”

“Even worse. You better get down to Hank’s before he closes up for the night. There should be some crullers left.”

Y/N thanked her and fit her fingers through the plastic bag handles. “Oh boy, I hope so.” 

\---

The sky had grown much darker since she’d been in the diner. A heavy tarp of thick, sable clouds hung between the town and the stars, shutting off the heavenly lights. 

Y/N turned down the empty street towards the donut shop, sneakers squeaking gently after sinking into a wayward puddle. 

“Stupid shoes,” she hissed as her toe caught on a lifted edge of sidewalk, nearly sending her flying again. She righted herself quickly and felt the usual twing of embarrassment despite being alone on the street. “No one’s here, you moron. No one saw that.” 

“I did.” 

Y/N’s heart froze as the luscious baritone echoed off the surrounding buildings and struck her chest like one of Dean’s right hooks. She looked up and there he was, leaning casually against the dank brick wall at the start of an alley, one shining shoe kicked up, knee bent. He tipped his chin downwards in a silent greeting and the rich blond hair cascaded into his eyes.

“Christian?” Her voice sounded empty and far away to her own ears and Y/N squinted in the dark, trying to see him better. “How?”

A slick smile spread over his lips and he crossed his arms, sweater bunching up around what could only be described as massive biceps. “Let me guess, you checked out the address I gave you and you… how does Dean put it? ‘Ganked the bitch’…”

Distracted by the mention of Dean, Y/N moved closer to him, shifting the take out bag from one hand to the other. “We did, yes.”

Light was falling from a window above and it made his features glow. Smooth forehead, impossibly symmetrical eyes, strong jaw, perfect nose, and lips that seemed softer than anything she’d ever seen. 

Before she realized it, Y/N was standing in front of him, barely half a foot away. She’d crossed the danger line, but felt no urge to run; she simply wanted to be close to him, so she was. 

Christian gazed down at her with interest. “And have you anything to say to me?”

A second of confusion crossed her face but it soon smoothed to a vacant smile. Something about him made her happy, calm. “Thank you,” she said softly, “for the info. We would have probably been looking for like a week without your help.” 

He let out a slow breath, his lips parting gently and catching her attention fully. “Would that have been so bad?” he asked, his voice taking on an entrancing melodic tone. “To be stuck here for a week, two?” 

Y/N felt her insides drop but in the most delicious way. It was as if every muscle in her body dipped downwards in a split instant, like she was falling over the first hill on a rollercoaster. She sighed deeply and bit her lip, heat flooding her cheeks as lust crept through her body. “I suppose not.”

Christian pushed himself off of the wall with a firm kick and Y/N gasped as he came so near. She could smell his cologne; dark and heavy, flooding her senses as the wind blew passed. 

“Perhaps you should stay a little longer… Get to know the place, the… people.” 

Y/N swooned, moving with him in a strange dance as he turned until her back was against the wall. She was lost in his eyes, falling deeply into the pale blue, and she realized as the bag slipped from her hand, just how much she wanted him. 

“What are you?” she breathed, her lungs emptying slowly while he set his right hand flush on the wall beside her head. 

“I told you,” he replied with a seductive smile. “I’m magic.” 

She could feel her heart racing, the blood rushing through her body like it was trying to escape. She wondered if he could hear it as loudly as she could. 

Christian went on, his left hand slowly settling on the wall as well, caging her in. “I can be anything you want. Your worst fear or your deepest desire.”

Y/N swallowed hard, knowing he was absolutely right. “You’re dangerous,” she laughed, trying to break away from the spell he was casting over her. “I know that much.” 

He licked his lips slowly as his head cocked to the side. “And why would you say that?” 

His voice was so warm and delicious, like an old fashioned melody Y/N never wanted to forget. She shivered and found herself melting against the wall, her skin tingling, body begging to be touched. 

“Tell me,” he said, locking his gaze into hers. “You can tell me anything and always will.” 

Y/N nodded absently and her mouth dropped slightly. “Because…Because I can feel myself drawn to you and I…I just don’t do that. Ever.”

He smiled, seemingly satisfied by her answer and leaned in closer than ever. Y/N held her breath as his lips grazed her cheek in a chaste but impossibly seductive kiss. 

“I’ll be in touch,” he whispered, his breath warming her skin, voice filling her head. 

When she opened her eyes, he was gone; the empty street around her giving no evidence that anyone had even been there with her. She felt a pang of despair deep inside, an emptiness that deepened the more she thought about him being gone. She lifted her hand to her cheek and sighed deeply, her fingers vibrating as if the kiss were still there, as if he’d left a bit of magic behind. 

She found her way back to the motel on a cloud, feet barely touching the ground. 

She sank down onto her bed, food forgotten by her feet until Dean’s voice cracked through her mind. 

“Hey,” he moaned, “you forgot the donuts again!”

Y/N shook herself and rolled her eyes. “Dude…I’ll buy you ten dozen donuts tomorrow if you want, just shut up.”

Dean bent down to pick up the take out bag, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face. “What’s with you? You’re all…”

She sighed and sat back against the headboard. “All what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Stoned or something.” Y/N laughed. “You know, if you’re gonna do that, you should bring enough to share with everybody.” 

“I’m not stoned, Dean,” she assured him, grabbing his hand and tugging him down to her. “Just…in a mood.” She kissed him quickly, her eyes open to enjoy the stunned look on his face as her lips pressed hard against his.

“I like your moods,” he teased before stumbling backwards as she shoved him away. “I definitely like your moods…”

Her pillow clocked him in the back of the head and Dean laughed to himself as he unpacked dinner, silently wishing Sam had gotten his own room.


	6. Chapter 6

_Y/N smiled as Christian took her hand and helped her step out of his car. It was low and sleek, black inside and out, with room just enough for two. Y/N gripped his offered hand and stood up from the seat, careful to drag her short skirt back down into place as she did._

_“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” he asked, eyes covering every inch of her, uncovered or not._

_Y/N bit her lip and tried to ignore the rush of heat that flooded her system. “You have,” she said teasingly, “but I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”_

_Christian smiled. “Noted.”_

_With a slick turn, he hooked Y/N’s hand in his elbow and led her towards the sunset._

_The sky was at the peak of beauty, precious blues giving way to pink and gold as the world darkened behind them. The air was slightly chilled and smelled of autumn, the fallen leaves and pristinely trimmed grass giving off that warm feeling as they walked down the pavement._

_“Where are we?” she asked, eyes taking in the picturesque park around them. Fall flowers were in bloom at their feet while the trees showed off every warm color they could create._

_Blue eyes shone in the golden light as he looked down at her. “Don’t you recognise it? You’ve been here before.”_

_Y/N felt the Earth shift beneath her feet as her vision swayed. She gasped as the world around her molded and reshaped itself into a park from her childhood, a place she used to go to escape school, family, the stress of being a teenager. Before them appeared a gazebo; an old, chipped whitewashed wood structure where couples used to go to take their engagement photos or stand beneath when it rained._

_“Oh,” she said with a smile, “I’m dreaming.” Y/N pulled her hand from his arm and ran ahead a few paces, spinning as she felt the familiarity of the park; the smells, the air, all returning from her memories to live again in her dream. “This is incredible, thank you.”_

_She reached out for him and Christian closed the space between them, quickly taking her hand again. They climbed the short steps and stood in the middle of the gazebo, a chilly breeze following them inside._

_“How are we here?” She turned towards him, staring up into his face, trying to sear it into her memory. “How are you here? You were never here with me.”_

_“I am now.” He pulled her close, laying a tender hand on the small of her back while cupping her right hand in his. “It’s your dream, Y/N.” Slowly, he began to move, swaying with her in a dance that took her breath away._

_“Feels so real…” She lay her head on his chest and felt the comfort of his heartbeat, the warmth of his being flowing into her. “You feel so real.”_

_Christian stopped the dance and moved his hands up to cradle her head, gently guiding her to look up at him. “Perhaps I am.”_

_She laughed even as lust dripped from her cunt. “It’s not possible. It’s just a dream.”_

_He nodded in understanding and drew his thick thumb across her pliant lips. “Then there are no consequences here, no rules,” he whispered. “You can do whatever you please, whatever you desire.”_

_She nodded in understanding as his song swirled in her mind. “Anything I desire.”_

_He plucked at her bottom lip and Y/N reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him downwards. She went up high on her toes and kissed him hard, sliding her tongue between his lips without hesitation or awkward fear. It was what she truly wanted, so she did it._

_Christian took over, his hands sliding firmly down her body, cupping her breasts as he kissed his way across her jaw and downwards. She stretched her throat for him, heart racing as he sucked on her pulse, pulling a deep moan from her gut._

“Y/N?” 

Sam’s whisper jarred her awake and she half rolled towards him, peering over her shoulder. “You OK, Sam?” 

He laughed softly. “Yeah. I was checking on you,” he said, scooting closer to her on the small bed. “You were moaning in your sleep.” His left hand slid up her tight, gently dancing over the thin blanket as he pushed up behind her. “You woke me up.” 

Y/N shivered as his erection pressed into her back. “Fuck, Sam,” she moaned, the dream still lingering in her mind, the feel of Christian’s kiss still hot on her lips. She rolled her hips backwards and he hid his face in her hair, breathing heavily as he pushed back. 

“You know what happens when you sleep in my bed,” he teased; fingers climbing under the blanket to paw at her tits. “Get me so hard, Y/N/N.” 

His lips grazed her ear and she closed her eyes, imagining Christian on her once more. 

Sam plucked at her nipple and bit down on her shoulder. 

In her stupor, she couldn’t control the volume of her whimpers. “Fuck!”

The starfish taking up the entire bed next to them shifted onto his side, rubbing his eyes as he woke. “What the fuck, guys?” Dean groaned, sitting up on his elbow. “I’m right here. Not cool.” 

Sam rolled away instantly, lying on his back, blanket tenting impressively over his massive erection. “Sorry,” he grunted, trying to shake away the arousal. 

“There are rules, ya know,” Dean chastised, shaking his head at them disapprovingly. 

Y/N pouted and slipped out of bed, hoping over the divide and into Dean’s arms. “Sorry,” she whispered, settling against him and tugging the blanket up. She kissed his cheek before he could reprimand them anymore and his face melted into a sleepy smile. 

“It’s fine,” he yawned. “Go sleep.” 

Another kiss, this time on his lips sealed the deal, and Dean laid his head back down, this time cuddling Y/N instead of his pillow. 

“Night, Sam,” she whispered loudly. 

He laughed and rolled away, turning his back to her. “Night, Y/N/N.” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Shuddup, both of you.”

They were both snoring again before Y/N could even close her eyes. She was exhausted but her body was keeping her awake. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to be ravished, to be devoured alive. 

She wanted Christian. 

...


	7. Chapter 7

The drive home was long and boring. Dean spent most of the ride singing loudly and off-key to the AC/DC tape he’d crammed into the radio, drumming on the wheel whenever a note appeared that he knew he’d never hit. 

Sam was lost in his tablet, reading a newly released Ted Bundy biography, and Y/N was snuggled happily in the backseat, her head against the window, legs stretched out on the bench, phone clutched in her hand. 

She hadn’t looked up in the longest time, eyes glued to the screen, thumbs racing to answer his every text. She wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten her phone number, but when she’d asked, he’d offered some answer along the lines of him being a magical creature who could do fantastical things to her whenever he chose. She had laughed it off, but he demonstrated by reaching through the phone and kissing her cheek again. To her utter shock, Y/N felt it. The heat of his lips, the sweep of his breath across her cheekbone, the press of his soft lips. She swooned in the backseat and forgot about how strange it was that he’d randomly texted her out of nowhere. It didn’t matter how he got her number, just that he had it and was using it. 

The entire way home she talked to him, his words flooding her mind like honey; sweet and charming, warm and all encompassing. It felt as if he were sitting there in the backseat with her, her feet kicked up on his lap, his hands gently caressing her calves and occasionally higher. She felt like she was floating, her mind lost in dreamy bliss with him, ignoring the radio and Dean’s singing, Sam’s occasional ribs, the roar of the engine. 

There was nothing but Christian and that was just fine with her. 

He asked her about her life, her dreams, fears, fantasies, and she told all without hesitation. He was so easy to talk to, so easy to listen to. The way he spoke was like a symphony, the words chosen with absolute care to form rhythmic dance for her eyes and mind. Every word was like a tiny drop of ecstasy, and by the time they’d reached the Bunker, Y/N was punch drunk and smiling, drifting on a cloud. 

Not even Dean’s worried voice could knock her down as he handed Y/N her backpack from the trunk. “You OK?”

She shouldered the bag with her free hand, phone still tight in the other. “Of course,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. You just look all… weird.” He waved a hand before her face, gesturing to the abnormally blissful gaze and peaceful smile she wore. 

Y/N popped up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m great,” she whispered before skipping away to her room; her cell phone vibrating with message after message. 

“Something seem off to you?” he asked Sam, eyes still squinting at the space Y/N had vacated. 

“Why, because she’s happy?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, because she’s happy. You ever seen her so…” He paused to find the right words, jazz fingers waving while he scanned his brain, coming up with nothing good. “Ya know…”

Sam laughed under his breath and patted Dean on the back. “She’s happy. She’s safe. We’re home. Let it go. It’s all good, Dean.” 

A heavy sigh dropped Dean’s shoulders and he nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

Sam was halfway out of the garage, but his voice carried well. “I usually am!”

\---

Hours seemed to fly by as Y/N lay in her room, her eyes locked on his words, occasionally switching from laptop to phone and back again as charges ran out. 

They spoke of everything and nothing, of the good and the bad. Christian dug deep into her head, pulling out memories she hadn’t experienced in years, learning everything he could about her. It was strange to Y/N that someone was taking such an interest in her. For years, everything had been about Sam and Dean, about fighting the monsters of this world and beyond. There was never much time for Y/N or her deeply rooted scars, for the things she cried about or laughed over. There was no one to ask her why she reacted to anger with tears, or why it excited her to think about being bound head-to-toe in intricate tied silk knots. 

It wasn’t as if the Winchesters were inattentive, in fact, they knew her better than she knew herself most of the time, but this was different. Christian dug in deep, following every answer with another question until Y/N was thinking about things she’d never given much credence to, realizing that she was so much more fucked up than she ever knew. It was painful but Christian never let her drop; constantly there, a ghostly body sitting with her, his arms tight around her shoulders, his lips on her ear, whispers in her mind. 

Everything felt OK with him, better. He brought up the most painful moments and then soothed her pain nearly instantly. All it took was a word; an imagined hand on hers, a kiss. 

‘You’re very dangerous,’ she told him, typing quickly on the laptop set on her thighs. 

‘Why do you say that?’

She laughed. ‘Because I just looked at the clock and it’s four in the morning.’

‘So?’

‘So, we’ve been talking for twelve hours straight and I just realized that I haven’t peed since before we left Tennessee.’

There was a momentary silence and Y/N thought that perhaps she’d gone too far, but it was the truth, and she always told him the truth. 

Always. 

‘So, go pee now,’ he said simply.

She paused, her hands poised over the keys to make a joke, but found nothing to say except, 

‘OK’. 

She passed Dean in the hallway, but she barely saw him. 

“Hey, where you been? You missed dinner,” he called, spinning around, bleary-eyed as she swept by him enroute. “I put a plate in the oven for-”

Y/N waved without looking back. “Not hungry!”

She locked the door and did her business, phone still tight in her fingers. Besides relief, a flood of happiness suddenly washed over her and she smiled at herself in the mirror, feeling good, really good for the first time in ages. 

Maybe he really was magic. 

‘Feeling better?’ he asked, as if he knew she did. 

She bit her lip as heat filled her cheeks. ‘I do. Thank you. :)’

‘Good girl.’

Her stomach flipped. No one had called her that in ages; she never let anyone anymore. It felt incredible to see it again, to feel the praise in his words. 

Suddenly, she was floating again, feet barely touching the cold tile floor as she danced back to her room, Christian with her the entire time. She could feel his body wrapped around her, feel his breath tickle her cheek as she laid back down. She spread her legs and settled against the pillows, so desperate for him. A word, a touch, anything he wanted to give. 

‘You liked that a lot, didn’t you?’

She could almost hear his voice in her head and instant frustration set in, wanting to hear it for real. ‘I did.’ 

‘Which part? The peeing or…’

He always made her say it, explain everything in a rambling ball of truth that had no filter as it flowed from her mind to fingers. 

‘Well, yeah,’ she laughed to herself as her thumbs flew over the touchpad. ‘But…also the…’

‘Tell me.’

She let out a breath and let go, spilling everything to him. ‘I don’t know, when you told me to go I just immediately was like “OK, I’m going.” Like, not even a thought or hesitation. Didn’t even stop to talk to Dean in the hall even though we always do when we’re both up this late and I don’t know, I peed and then I just felt this… happiness come over me like… It felt good to do what you told me to do. Felt good to…’

‘Obey,’ he stated plainly. 

‘Yes.’

‘It felt amazing, didn’t it?’

Y/N smiled and sank into the pillow. ‘So amazing.’

‘And then I called you my good girl, did you enjoy that?’

Her heart skipped. ‘I did…’

‘How did it make you feel? Tell me.’

‘Like…’ She tried to find the words, but they were too far away from her sleepy mind, too dirty the ones she did manage to grasp. ‘Sexy…’

‘Aroused. Wonderful. Blissful.’

God, she wanted to hear his voice more than anything in the world. ‘Yes. I didn’t know how good it would feel to…obey. But I - I liked it.’ Her pussy throbbed at the memory. 

‘Of course you liked it. It feels safe, like you’re being taken care of for once, doesn’t it?’

Her breath was ragged, arousal dripping between her legs. ‘Yeah…it’s nice. I…’

‘What? What do you need?’

Y/N put the phone down on her chest and took a deep breath. The thought was insane. She just needed to calm down a bit. Eyes closed and body relaxed, she took another breath. 

The phone buzzed. 

‘You can tell me anything, Y/N.’

She could, that was the scary part. But not this. 

‘It’s nothing,’ she shot back, trying to regain herself while looking over at the clock. It was nearly five and she’d slept not one bit. ‘I should probably get going but…’

‘Tell me.’

Those two words always worked some sort of spell over her and all resolve to put the idea and herself to bed melted instantly. 

‘I just wish I could hear you right now. I miss your voice, is that weird?” 

‘Not weird at all. I’d love to speak with you.’

Y/N held her breath. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. Why don’t you call me now?’

She pulled the phone close to look at his words, her fingers hovering over the dial button. 

‘Do it. Do what you desire.’

She pressed the button.

...


	8. Chapter 8

_Christian looked gorgeous. Dressed to the nines in a sleek tailored black suit, heeled boots shining like mirrors, buttons on his shirt made of pure silver, matching the cufflinks at his wrists. His hair was slicked back from his forehead and curled behind his ears, lips tinted the palest pink like the flush in his cheeks; blue eyes lined in a thin swipe of charcoal underneath._

_He held out his hand and Y/N took it, still nervous to be joining him at the party, unsure of just what was in store for her._

_They’d discussed it many times, him taking her there to show her off, to be used as a plaything for the high-roller party goers who paid for the privilege of an invitation to the secret party. But being there, seeing the mansion now, her imagination ran rampant and fear began to stiffen her muscles._

_Barely dressed beneath her purple velvet cloak, Y/N shivered in the night air as she looked up at the castle-like home looming before them._

_“I don’t know about this,” she said quietly, afraid to back out on her word, but even more scared to take another step._

_Christian turned to her, his fingers lovingly tight around hers. “You wanted this, didn’t you? You told me this was a dream of yours.”_

_She swallowed hard and stared up into his blank face, unable to tell if he was mad or disappointed in any way. “I did- I do,” she replied quickly, her heart racing, body telling her to get back in the car and hide. “It is. I just…”_

_“You’re afraid,” he said firmly, his voice dropping deeply and void of distinct emotion. “And what have I told you about being afraid?”_

_Her bottom lip shook as she tried not to cry. There was something horrid about the tone he used, something in the timber of his voice that made her want to cry like a scolded child. “That…” She paused and took a breath, doing what he’d taught her and mentally pushing away the nervous pang in her gut. “That fear is useless and I need to tame it.”_

_To her relief, he smiled._

_“Very good.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. “So do it now. Push the anxiety and fear aside and do what you desire. Be what you desire.”_

_“What I desire, yes.” She smiled as the dreamy bliss of obedience washed over her. It trickled down from the top of her head like a warm waterfall until her body was submerged in it completely._

_His fingertips brushed her cheek sending sparks of pleasure through her. “And what is it that you truly desire? Tell me.”_

_Y/N leaned into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed. “To be yours,” she answered, voice barely audible on the end of a sigh._

_“You are,” he said simply, cupping her cheek to lift her chin. “Mine.”_

_Her body relaxed, empty of all fear. “Yours.”_

_The party was unlike any she’d ever seen before, opulently appointed rooms filled with beautiful people in various entanglements, food and drink passed around on silver trays, music flowing freely but unobtrusively from hidden speakers. Some guests stood along the walls, sipping from crystal glasses, watching as others made love in the middle of the room. Others danced in groups; hands and lips covering any bare bits of skin. The crowd seemed alive with sexual energy, the room moving and swaying in a seductive rhythm as Christian led her inside._

_A few men nodded to the new arrival, boldly greeting the gorgeous man and his slave, but others simply watched in interest as Y/N was walked through the party into the back room._

_She felt strangely alive and overly aroused knowing so many sets of eyes were locked onto her. She kept her steps short and her back straight, swaying her hips purposely so that any watching would glimpse the curves hiding beneath her cloak. It was a tease, part of the show, an overture of things to come._

_The back room was dim and empty, save for red satin couches lining each of the four walls and a plush white carpet in the center. The electric lights were off, but candles filled the corners, flickering warm yellow light into the room, reflecting strongly off of the black tapestry covered walls._

_Y/N waited in the center in the room, her head slightly bowed, arms at her sides. She kept her eyes wide, watching as the crowd filtered in behind them, quickling taking their places on the silken couches._

_Every eye was on her except the ones she wanted. Christian’s attention was on the crowd, carefully taking stock of who was there, calculating something in his head. It didn’t matter what, and she didn’t bother to worry. When it was time for her to know, she would._

_Finally, the doors shut and the show began._

_Christian spun around slowly, his arm extended in a greeting to all present._

_“Good evening, my lovely guests.” His voice filled the room and Y/N clung to it like a lifeline. His was the only face she knew, his the only familiar voice in the room. “Tonight, I offer you my prized possession, the newest and grandest addition to my collection. She has been fully trained to meet my desires and is unconditionally obedient to my whim.”_

_A flick of his wrist released the clasp on her cloak and Christian whipped the velvet away to reveal Y/N’s costume for the evening: a simple black silk strap that covered her slit front to back and around her hips, and heavy diamond clamps connecting her nipples with a gold chain. Around her throat was a collar of pure gold, and her toes were crushed into tall, tiny heels._

_A proud smile lit Christian’s lips as the crowd clapped with approval. “Tonight, my darlings,” he went on, voice calming the throng, “I offer her for your entertainment.”_

_Another spin and he was gone from center stage, leaving Y/N cold and alone, on display for the audience. No one moved for the longest time, and Y/N held her breath while the world turned around her._

_From the shadows behind her came a man with short, graying hair, his face hidden behind a mask of white. He walked slowly around Y/N, his footfalls muted by the plush pile. She tensed as he placed a single finger on her right shoulder and dragged it across her back, turning it with him to stand before her. She kept her eyes down and her mind calm. This is what Christian had asked of her. This is what she wanted, she’d confessed so many times._

_The man let his finger run down the very middle of her body, tracing a line from her clavicle to navel and then back up again. When he reached her throat, he turned his hand and closed it around her windpipe, eyes widening behind the mask as Y/N’s jaw dropped, struggling to take in air._

_As her eyes became hazy, he pushed downwards, silently urging Y/N to her knees. She sank down and he released her, only to tip her chin upwards and pry her lips open with his fingers._

_She held still as he toyed with her, kept her mind blank as he fucked into her pliant mouth, said not a word as he shot his hot load deep down her throat without warning._

_This was her purpose now. It was what Christian had asked her to do; it was what she’d always wanted._

_Guest after guest stepped up to use her, to touch her body, tug on her chains. They hit her when they pleased and fucked any hole they desired. She was merely there as entertainment, the obedient fuckslave for anyone Christian deemed worthy enough to enjoy._

_As the crowd dwindled and the remaining guests lounged around the room merely enjoying the show, Y/N lay on the floor, her knees tucked beneath her, her tits cradled by the plush carpet. She was exhausted and panting, dripping from every hole, sore and aching, ready to stop. But another pair of shoes appeared, stepping into the ring to take their turn._

_Y/N pushed up on her sore arms and sat back on her heels, waiting. She kept her thoughts at bay, pushing away the emotion and pain just as Christian had taught her to. She was nothing but flesh and blood to be used and enjoyed._

_The final guest cupped her cheek gently and guided her face upwards._

_“Y/N…”_

_Dean’s voice rang through her head and she opened her eyes to see him there; tuxedo fit like a glove, green eyes smiling and filled with desire. He licked his lips and helped her to stand, strong arms keeping her steady as her legs threatened to give out. She tottered forward on her heels but Dean caught her, his familiar heft holding her up as she leaned against him._

_“Dean?”_

_He lifted her chin to kiss her lips. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”_

_He tasted different, smelled wrong. His kiss was too strange, too foriegn. She pushed him away and screamed as he grabbed for her, nails scraping down her arm as she slid from his reach._

_“This is what you wanted,” Christian reminded her, his face suddenly reappearing behind Dean._

_Y/N fumed. “No! Not this. Not him! You leave Dean out of this!”_

_The serene mask that was Christian’s expression changed in an instant, morphing into one of demonic rage. The room around them caught fire, candles falling onto the carpet and couches, igniting everything in a gust of flame._

\---

Y/N woke up to her own scream, something not altogether unfamiliar, but something she hated nonetheless. It was cold in her room, the blankets long ago kicked off of the bed, her socks somewhere in a ball inside. She scrambled to grab it, tucking the covers beneath her chin as tears streamed down her cheeks. The dream had been too real, too powerful. She could still smell the candles, feel every hand groping and squeezing her flesh. She could taste every drop of cum that passed her lips, every cunt she’d been made to pleasure. It was all over her, inside and out, and not even the tears could push it away. 

‘Are you awake?’ 

She knew it was a long shot; the time on her phone read three, but it was worth a shot. 

He answered within moments. 

‘Did you enjoy your dream, my love?’ 

‘No. I mean yes. But no.’

She could almost see Christian’s face as he typed. ‘What’s wrong? Tell me. Did I not give you what you asked for? A night of mystery and debauchery where you are the prize?’

Y/N shuddered as bits of the dream flashed in her mind. ‘Yes, you did, thank you, but-’

‘What’s the matter?’

She held her breath, afraid to bring it up again. Each time he mentioned Dean, she shut him down, begging him not to discuss the Winchesters with her. They weren’t part of this…whatever they were doing. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was just the two of them. She saw no reason to bring the boys into anything, real or fantasy. 

‘I don’t like it when you… I just- I don’t want to talk about Dean anymore with you. It very much upsets me, and I don’t like it.’ She knew how harsh she sounded, but he needed to listen to her, she needed him to know. 

He was silent for too long and it scared her. She did her best to push away the fear and wait patiently, to be a good girl for him, be obedient, but her hands were shaking and her eyes were a blur. 

‘Very well.’

Y/N sighed in relief. ‘Thank you.’ She wanted to say more, but he beat her to it, changing the subject. 

‘Did you enjoy it otherwise? Being my pet in public? Letting all those strangers use and abuse you?’

Her clit throbbed. ‘I did. I’m so fucking wet right now.’

‘Good girl. Why don’t you rub yourself back off to sleep and dream about me some more?’

Y/N sank back into the pillows and smiled. ‘I love you,’ she said, more freely than ever. 

‘Good night, beautiful.’


	9. Chapter 9

She spent days in her room without so much as sneaking out for a snack. Always on her phone, texting, calling, video chatting. There were hours where she simply turned on the camera and listened to him speak, drifting off into a dreamlike trance as his words poured into her head. 

When she did emerge from her cave, it was with a tranquil smile upon her face, a face that she kept painted in perfectly applied makeup. Her hair was always done and pulled back in a clasp, her clothing chosen carefully to maximize her curves and show off her assets, and shoes that made her walk like a supermodel through the Bunker instead of running like a tomboy. 

\---

Y/N was already in the kitchen hard at work when Dean walked in, rubbing his eyes, the sleeves of his raggy bathrobe flapping as he moved. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she greeted, a wide smile on her bright pink lips, looking over her shoulder at him. “There’s coffee waiting for you, and in about ten seconds…” She turned back to the stove and fiddled with the pan. “Bacon!” Spinning around on her heels, she presented Dean with a large plate of perfectly crispy maple-smoked bacon. 

His jaw dropped and he closed his eyes, taking a whiff. “Oh, yes.” 

“This is the good stuff,” she told him, setting the bacon tower down on the table. “I got it from the butcher, not the grocery store.” She winked slowly, thickly covered black lashes capturing his attention. 

Dean cocked his head. “You…look really nice. Why?”

Y/N laughed and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist. “Why? I don’t know, I just want to look good. Is that a crime?” 

“I guess not…” 

Sam, fresh from a shower, appeared in the doorway, his nose carrying him in. “Smells amazing in here.” 

Y/N left Dean’s suspicious eye and turned to Sam, looking up with a loving gaze. “Good morning, Sam! I have a spinach omelet waiting for you in the oven.” Even in her heels, she had to reach up to hug him, but he bent down to accept. 

“How come he gets a hug?” Dean snit, sitting down with his mug. 

“Because you got bacon,” Y/N teased, releasing her grip around Sam’s neck. “Now, you boys be good. I’ve got some things to do.”

“You’re not eating?” Sam asked, looking at the stack of pancakes and bacon. 

Y/N shrugged. “Nah, not hungry. I had some coffee.” 

He grabbed her hand before she could run off. “You OK?” Hazel eyes narrowed, investigating her glazed expression as she smiled up at him. 

“Of course, silly,” she laughed, reaching up to pat his smooth cheek. “I’m so good.” Breaking out of his grip, she spun in his arms and reached for the apron strings. “Help me out of this, please?”

Sam kept his suspicion even as he untied the knot, noting how much more slack there was on the apron. “You’ve lost a lot of weight,” he noted, pulling the final string out of its loop. 

“Awe, thank you,” she said with a cheery grin. “Just trying to look my best.” The phone in her pocket buzzed loudly and Y/N stiffened, her entire body pulled up straight by an invisible puppet string. She took a slow, deep breath and then turned to Sam again, reaching up for him. “Enjoy breakfast,” she said, kissing his cheek. 

Dean received a peck as well, even as a strip of bacon hung from his lips. “You too, Dean. And don’t either of you clean up. I’ll do that later.” 

Sam couldn’t shake the eerie feeling and called to her just as she slipped through the doorway. “Y/N?” Her heels clicked on the tile. “You sure everything is alright?” 

Y/N turned and smiled at each man in turn. “I am very happy and feeling really good. Everything is perfectly alright. But I appreciate your concern. I promise. I am so good.” Her pocket buzzed again and her smile slipped slightly as her eyes glazed over into a blank stare. “Ta ta for now!” 

Her shoes clicked like typewriter keys as she disappeared down the hall. 

The boys waited until the clicking was muffled by distance and then gave each other a concerned look. 

“You don’t buy any of that crap about her being happy, do you?” Dean asked, a forkful of pancake halfway to his lips. 

Sam ran a hand down his face and scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. “I mean… she does seem genuinely happy. Sure, it’s a little weird but-”

“But what?” 

“I looked him up and-” Sam slid into the seat across from Dean and clasped his hands. “There was nothing.” 

Dean’s brow creased deeply. “He doesn’t exist?”

“No, he exists. He’s… fine. There is nothing strange about his background. No record, no nothing. He’s just… some guy.” 

“That’s impossible. How’d he know about the witch?” 

Sam shrugged, broad shoulders raising and staying high for a moment. “I honestly don’t know, Dean. But, Y/N is happy. She’s… Did you know I caught her in the gym the other day? She’s getting healthy.” 

Dean growled. “She’s not eating. Or sleeping. I’m up all night, you know that, but she’s actually up all night. I can hear her sometimes. It’s…” He looked away, embarrassed by his voyeuristic tendencies. “Something’s up.” 

Giving up arguing, Sam pushed himself away from the table and walked to the oven to retrieve his breakfast. “I say just let her be happy. Honestly it seems like she’s…”

Dean leaned in waiting impatiently for the rest of the sentence. “She’s what, Sam?” 

“In love. It just seems like she’s in love.” 

“What?” Dean scoffed, pushing the idea away. “That’s bullshit. Come on, man. Y/N? In love with some dude she met once? No. That’s not Y/N. That’s not my Y/N.”

Sam returned with his plate, egg whites folded with strips of green. “Maybe that’s why you’re being so suspicious. She’s not yours anymore.” The air quotes weren’t made but they were audible, and Dean didn’t care for the implication. 

“Ya know what? That’s rude.” Just as Sam had done, Dean pushed himself up from the table and turned away. “This dude is trouble and I’m going to prove it,” he grit, turning back for another strip of bacon before rushing off. 

Sam sighed at his omelet and tucked in. Sure, it was a little weird, but what wasn’t weird in their lives? Besides, Y/N did seem truly happy. Even if it made him a little jealous, who was he to take that away from her? There were rules and jealousy was a no-no.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean swallowed before knocking, savoring the last drop of bacon grease on his tongue. He tapped his knuckles twice on her door and then stepped back, rocking on his heels as he waited. 

“Dean!” Her smile was beautiful, her lips freshly touched up with petal pink lipstick, eyes wide and shining. “How was your breakfast? Everything OK?” She grabbed her purse as she spoke, her eyes on him, but her attention clearly elsewhere. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and dipped his head, looking her over. “Yeah, it was great, thanks. Listen, Y/N/N, we gotta talk.” 

She paused and stood up straight, one hand poised upon the brass doorknob. “Of course,” she said quickly, voice calm and amiable. “But, can it wait? I really have to run into town. I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Well, why don’t-” 

Y/N stepped through the door, forcing Dean to politely move backwards as she shut the bedroom. “Hmm?” 

“I was just saying, why don’t I drive you? Baby could use a run into town.” He smiled that smile that always got him what he wanted, and Y/N nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, that would be nice, thank you.” 

\---

She sat in the front seat, her skirt fanned out on the black leather like a photographer were arranging it. She kept close to the door, leaving plenty of room between them, and kept her eyes on her phone the entire ride. 

Dean knew he needed to say something, to try to get her to talk, but he was distracted by the strobe of sunlight that ran through the trees and lit her profile. It shone through her hair, lit each painted eyelash, haloed her perfect lips. It was like noticing her for the first time, seeing a completely different side of the woman he knew and loved. It was strange and exciting and a little bit unsettling, but he could barely keep his eyes off of her. 

“So, uh… this guy you’re talking with-”

Y/N sighed blissfully and lay the phone on the seat between them, turning to look at Dean. “Yes, he’s amazing.”

Dean pursed his lips and shifted his hands over the wheel. “Is he though? You seem a little… off lately.” She frowned deeply and he felt like shit. “Well, not a bad off. Just… different.” 

“Bad different?” There were tears in her voice already and she looked to Dean with misty eyes. 

“Shit,” he breathed, shaking his head. “No, just… concerning different.” 

She pouted. 

“Look, you’re just not acting like yourself lately and we’re a little worried is all. You’re in your room all day, you’re not eating, you’re on your damn phone constantly-”

As if on cue, the phone buzzed and Y/N looked to it, eyes flickering down to the turned over screen. Her hand twitched but she didn’t reach for it, trying to keep her focus on Dean. 

“It’s OK,” he told her, sighing heavily. “You can answer him.” 

Y/N shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I’m talking to you.” She tried to smile but it was cut short by another message alert. 

“Go ahead. I know you want to.” 

“I want to talk to you,” she insisted, leaning over to lay her hand on his thigh. “I’m listening.” 

Dean dropped his right hand from the wheel to cover hers, noting the fresh manicure and uncommonly pristine fingernails. There wasn’t a day that Y/N painted her nails where it didn’t chip instantly, leaving ragged lines of dark color on her fingertips; but now, the french manicure was intact and perfect down to the extreme shine of the top coat. Dean exhaled loudly and squeezed her hand. 

“I’m...worried that this guy is bad news, OK?” 

Y/N pulled her hand from his and shrank against the door, her eyes darting back and forth over the dash, trying to find the words she needed. “He’s not bad,” she insisted, voice squeaking out in a rush. “He’s good, Dean. I promise. He’s-he makes me so fucking happy. I feel so good and beautiful, and I’m feeling better about myself and everything. I just. I need this. I feel so amazing with him. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s not bad. I promise. It’s good. He’s good. He’s so good. He’s so so good.” 

Dean watched in silent panic as Y/N started to rock in her seat, slowly calming herself as she moved back and forth, her lips still moving, repeating to herself. 

“He’s good. He’s good.” 

“OK. OK.” Dean reached across the bench for her, but she tensed badly, cringing and pulling away from his hand. “Y/N, calm down, baby. It’s OK.” 

The phone scared them both and Y/N grabbed it up, cradling it to her chest as she read the messages. Dean watched as her shaking stopped, her shoulders relaxed, her smile returned. It was as if someone shot her up with Fentynal; she calmed instantly.

“You OK over there?” 

Y/N set the phone back down and sighed happily. “I’m wonderful, Dean.” The deli came into view and she pointed at it. “Pull in up there. I’ll just be a minute.” 

Without a word, Dean parked in front of the store and Y/N hopped out immediately, her skirt blowing gently in the wind. 

Before she was through the door, her phone buzzed, accidentally left behind. Dean grit his teeth and rubbed his palms on his thighs, debating whether or not to look. He tapped his hands on the wheel, chewed on the inside of his cheek, hated himself for even thinking about it. 

Another alert broke his control; this time, the phone was ringing. 

Dean gave a quick look through the window of the store and saw the top of Y/N’s head as she bounced down an aisle. He took a deep breath and grabbed the phone, sliding his finger across the screen. 

“Hello, my lovely girl.” 

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?” There was fire on his tongue. 

A faint laugh floated through the phone. “Dean Winchester. How lovely to finally speak with you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Dean’s fingers tightened around the cell. “Funny, haven’t heard much about you.” 

“That does not surprise me,” Christian replied, his voice calm and smooth. “But I know all about you. Y/N tells me wonderful things.” 

“Yeah, about this thing you got going on with her- it needs to end. This isn’t healthy.” 

“And why would you say that? Is she not happy?”

Dean stammered. “Y-yes, but-” 

“Is she not taking better care of herself? Of you?”

“Y/N doesn’t need to take care of me, thanks. That’s not-”

Christian laughed again. “You shouldn’t protest so much, Dean. The simple truth is, Y/N is happy now. She is getting healthy mentally and physically. She is taking care of herself and you. She’s doing better, becoming better.” 

Dean glanced up at the deli window, watching as she turned a corner, shopping basket in hand. “And what’s in it for you?” 

“The joy of seeing her grow into the beautiful soul that she is.” Christian’s tone was slow like syrup and Dean’s shoulders dropped as he listened closely. “The pleasure of teaching her how to find herself. To love herself. To become perfection.” 

“I don’t think that’s your place to do,” Dean protested, his voice cracking as he watched Y/N through the window. “She was always perfect.” 

“Why haven’t you told her yet, Dean?” 

“Told her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.” 

Dean’s breath caught in his throat and his jaw fell. His heart was thudding in his ears and suddenly he couldn’t think about anything but Y/N and taking her in his arms. “I- we don’t-”

“You love her, don’t you?” 

He nodded at nothing, eyes locked on her distant form. “Yeah.” 

“Then why don’t you say it?” 

Dean cleared his throat and tried to break away from the strange dream that was washing over him. “We don’t do that kinda stuff.”

Christian’s voice deepened. “Look at her, Dean. Don’t you love seeing her so happy? Don’t you love watching her blossom like this? Don’t you want her to be loved and cherished and happy?” 

His eyes glazed over as his mind raced, trying to puzzle out the million thoughts battling in his head. “I do.” 

“Then tell her.” 

Dean threw the phone down just as Y/N opened her door, sliding ladylike into the car with a smile on her face. 

“You OK?” she asked, setting two paper bags down by her feet. “I got pork chops and that banana cream pie you like.” 

He took in a short breath and nodded, forcing a smile. “Y/N, I-” 

She looked up and bit her lip, face lighting up with happiness just to be near him. “Yes?” 

He shuddered deeply and shook his head, knocking away the trance. “Nothing,” he said, waving it off and starting the engine. “Let’s get home and get into that pie.” 

He winked and she scooted close, laying her cheek on his shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam sat back as far as he could lean and patted his tummy happily. “Y/N, that was amazing. Thank you.” 

His smile was lazy and as full as his stomach, and Y/N lay her hand on his cheek. “Anything for my boys,” she said, petting him sweetly before standing up and grabbing their plates. Dean tried to keep his, desperately scraping off the last bits of pie with his fork as it rose through the air. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she laughed.

Dean licked his fork clean and lay it on the plate. “It was delish.”

Sam cocked a brow at his choice in words. “Delish?”

“What? That’s a word,” Dean scoffed in defense. 

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “OK, Rachel Ray.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes lovingly at the boys as they bickered and brought the dishes to the sink. She ran the tap until the water was hot enough, holding her wrist beneath the spray, and then set to cleaning up. 

As the sink filled with bubbles and Y/N hummed to herself, the brothers engaged in a silent exchange with lots of nodding and ‘no, you’s being flung about until Sam finally conceded and cleared his throat. 

“You know, Y/N…” 

“Hmm?” Her voice rose over the faucet and clinking of utensils as she turned her left ear towards the table. 

“You’ve really been doing a lot lately and… while it’s been great, and you’re-uh… The thing is, we’re a little… concerned about the way you’re behaving recently and perhaps- that is, maybe… you should uh…”

Y/N huffed and turned off the taps, spinning around towards the guys, her hands resting on the sink behind her. “Samuel, if you’ve something to say to me, say it.”

The sound of his full name rolling so easily off of her lips gave Sam a start. Usually, it was only used in jest and accompanied by a laugh or a stuck out tongue. “Well, you are clearly going through something and we just feel-”

“Ya gotta stop talking to that guy, Y/N/N,” Dean broke in, leaning forward as he cut Sam off. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, his face flooding with worry. “Look, I know you think you’re happy, but he’s really- this isn’t like you at all and it’s- frankly… well…”

“It’s freaking us out.” 

“Yes. That.” 

If they could see her heartbreak from across the room, they made no mention, only diverting their guilt-ridden stares as Y/N pressed her lips together in a hard line to stop her pout. 

“Well,” she said, pushing away from the counter and walking slowly towards the door. “That’s very… um…” 

The clicking of her heels made her freeze mid-step, her left foot refusing to fall fully. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, all opposite and colliding. For and against. Up and down, left and right. There was no way to stop the kaleidoscope of panic rushing through her head and her eyes darted frightfully fast in the void before her. 

“I…” Her chest heaved with struggling breaths. “I…” Her foot came down finally and the click broke her mind. “I hate heels!” She turned to Sam, eyes wide with horror. “What the fuck am I doing? I hate wearing heels! They kill my feet. What is wrong with me?” 

Y/N began to visibly shake and Dean jumped to his feet, ready to grab her, but she slipped away and went to Sam instead, her focus locked on him. 

“How?” She grabbed his collar tight in her fist, trying to gather up his shirt, anything to hold onto. 

Sam gently replaced the fabric with his own hands and pulled her close. “It’s OK.” She shook so badly, he could barely wrap his arms around her, but he did anyway, clasping his big hands behind her back until she settled. “Shit happens. We all get a little carried away sometimes.” 

Y/N pushed away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “This is not a little carried away! This is crazy! I’m in heels, Sam!” She pulled her hand away and looked down to find it smudged with black and blue makeup. “What the fuck is that? I’m wearing eyeliner? Come on!”

Dean stepped close and gingerly reached for her arm. “Y/N, it’s not that bad, really. You’re just a little wrapped up in him is all.” He choked back his worry as she turned to look up at him. “He makes you happy, yeah?” 

Her panic died in his gaze. “He does. Yeah. So much.” A faint smile reappeared, turning the corners of her pink lips. “He really does.”

Sam shifted in his seat behind her and broke the spell.

“But this is insane, right?” she ranted, spinning around and gesturing to herself. “I look like freaking June Cleaver.” 

Dean shrugged and hid a smile. “I think it’s kinda sexy.” 

Y/N glared over her shoulder and then went back to her sanity: Sam. “I need to end this, yes?” 

Sam sighed heavily and shook his head. “I really don’t know. If you don’t feel safe and happy with him, then yes. If you do… I don’t know, see where it goes.” 

She thought for a moment and then chewed her lip, gagging as the lipstick taste hit her tongue. “Gross. This is over. I’m calling him right now.”

Sam nodded. “Whatever you need, we’re here.”

She couldn’t even look at Dean as she flew past him; heels driving her mad as they clicked on the tile. Halfway up the stairs, she stopped, kicked them off and grabbed them up in one hand, shaking them madly at the sky. “Heels! Come on!”


	12. Chapter 12

It was easier said than done. 

Y/N raced to her room, stockinged feet slipping slightly on the polished floor. Twice, she turned a corner too fast and almost went flying into the wall, but she refused to put the heels back on. 

“How fucking dare he. What kinda shit is this!” 

Her rage echoed off the gray tiles and followed her to her door. 

The heels hit the carpet with a muted thud and Y/N sneered at them, ready to set them on fire as she pulled her cell off the charger. 

‘Hey! We need to talk.’

She paced the room until he replied, ready to rip him a new one. 

‘You need to watch your tone.’

Something inside of her tightened like the panic button had been pressed. Even reading his words, she knew he was angry. 

‘Sorry. But… we need to talk.’

His pause was too long and Y/N grew increasingly worried that he was mad at her. She picked at her nails, dragging them across her bottom teeth nervously, staring at the screen, waiting.

‘So, speak.’

Suddenly terrified, she took a deep breath and sat on the foot of her bed, typing with both thumbs. ‘I really think that we need to take a break from...us. From this. It’s too much and I’m like going insane or something and I don’t know. Just. I need a break.’

‘You may leave anytime you wish.’

Her heart dropped into her gut and Y/N felt the hot sting of tears poke at her eyes. ‘No. I don’t want to leave. Please don’t go. You can’t leave me. I’ll die. Please. I just I mean I was scared because of it’s all going so fast but I can’t think anymore please, please please. Don’t leave me.’

‘Y/N. Stop.’

She froze, eyes wide and leaking, body tense and painfully twisting up. She waited without a breath, a thought; staring at the text box, unable to wrangle her racing mind.

‘You will calm down right now.’

She managed a breath in but it wouldn’t release. ‘Yes. OK.’ Her lungs began to burn but the muscles would not cooperate. She gasped, lips turning blue, body trembling. 

‘Call me. Now.’

She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear, listening to the ring. He answered immediately. 

“Look at me.” His voice was sharp and stabbed at her chest like a thousand knives, his annoyance at her obvious. 

Y/N pulled the phone from her ear and held it up so that Christian could look down upon her. She sank to the floor as she did, sliding off of the end of the bed and tucking her knees up to her chest. 

The usual tranquil tone she was greeted with was gone; there was only dominance and frustration in his voice. 

“You will calm yourself. I thought we had passed all of this… nonsense.”

Y/N whimpered. “I’m sorry...I-”

Christian’s glare was painful. “I did not ask you to speak, did I?”

She shook her head quickly and sealed her lips shut. 

“All of this time together, we have been working on getting your… emotional issues under control, yes?” He did not wait for her to agree, nor did he want her to. She kept her eyes down and his face aloft, letting him tower over her just as she’d been conditioned to. “And still, you react this way. Do you wish to leave me?” 

This time he waited and her answer came out with a wave of tears. 

“No.”

“Then behave yourself or you may be forced to.” 

Y/N bit her tongue, holding back the panicked rush of words racing from her mind to her lips. She wanted to scream, to beg him not to leave, to confess her love and reaffirm her everlasting devotion, but he wanted her calm. He had told her to behave. So she did. 

Y/N took a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity, and held it in, counting slowly to five. As she exhaled, she let go of every bit of tension in her shoulders, her neck, her soul. She forced her mind to relax and clear, her body to soften. When she breathed again, she opened her eyes and looked up into his.

“Yes, Master,” she answered, feeling the dreamy trance was over her as she stared into the pale blue of his beautiful eyes. 

“There’s my beautiful girl.” His voice was soft again, melodic, lulling her deeper into a moment of pure peace. “You know that all I want is for you to be your best. To feel better, be better.”

Y/N nodded, her reality slowing as if she were moving through syrup. 

“That’s all anyone wants for you,” Christian continued, his song wrapping around her mind as easily as ever. “Even Dean.” 

Y/N smiled at the thought. “Dean?” 

Christian dipped his chin, eyes in full focus on the screen. “Yes. I spoke with him, you know. He is very protective of you, very caring.” 

“He is,” Y/N sighed, her head rolling back against the bed as her mind brought up Dean’s freckled smile. “So nice.” 

“He loves you very much.”

“Mhm.” 

“Has he told you yet?” 

Y/N sat up, her brows creasing as she fought to understand. “Told me what?” 

Christian smiled but shook his head gently. “It’s not my place to say. But, perhaps if you ask him what we spoke about, he’ll tell you.” 

\---

Dean was lying in his bed atop the covers, lamp light framing his body on both sides. He had one hand behind his head, the other scrolling through his phone; his boots were off and his avocado-covered socks were crossed at the ankles. 

Y/N lingered in his doorway, leaning against the frame. “Hey.” 

He looked up immediately and smiled. “Hey, baby.” He set his phone down on the nightstand to his right and sat up, patting the bed beside him, calling her over. “Come hang out with me.” 

She hesitated, wanting to dive right in to the reason for her visit, but afraid to ask. 

“Come on,” he urged. “It’s been forever since you crawled into my bed.” 

She blushed. “You miss it?”

“I do.” He bit his lip, green eyes bright as they peeked up through his lashes. “Miss you too,” he added, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. 

“I’m here,” she said with a shrug. “Haven’t gone anywhere.” 

Dean looked away as if guilty. “Doesn’t seem like it lately.” 

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she stepped inside, heels clicking gently on the hard floor before sinking into the carpet. She moved slowly, drawn to his beauty, enchanted by the warm light striking his cheeks, brightening his eyes. She crawled onto the bed, knees and hands denting the memory foam as she made her way to his side. 

Dean stretched out his left arm and she fell against him, skirt bunching up around her as she sank into her old place; head on his shoulder, hands upon his chest. 

Dean sighed peacefully and kissed the top of her head, breathing her in as he did. “I do miss you,” he whispered, wrapping his arm tight around her back. 

Her fingers twitched over his heart. “I haven’t gone anywhere, Dean. I’m still here.” She lifted her chin to look into his eyes and he smiled so sadly that her heart ached. 

“It’s not the same…”

Y/N ran her fingers across his forehead and into his hair, cupping them gently behind his ear. “It is, I promise. Everything is… good.”

“Are you really happy?” 

“I am.”

He gave in, leaning into her touch, letting her reach with her lips for his. It was slow and sweet, nothing like the late nights when she would sneak into his arms, hungry and desperate. This was tender, warm, true. 

She tasted like cherries; smelled like vanilla. Dean breathed her in as his lips traipsed across her cheek. He wanted to taste every inch of her, envelope himself in her essence. His lips nipped at her ear and she moaned, melting into the pillows as he pushed her back. 

“God, I love you,” she whispered, fingers clawing at his shirt, digging into the black cotton, wanting to tear it from his arms and feel his skin warm against hers. “I love you so much.” She said it without hope of reciprocation, without need of it. She knew he’d never say it back, which is why she never usually said it to him. But she needed him to know. She needed him to understand. 

He pulled away, big hand covering her cheek as he looked down into her eyes, reaching with his soul into hers. 

“I…” He swallowed hard. “I love you too.” 

She smiled and closed her eyes, searing the sound of it into her memory forever. “You don’t have to say it, Dean. I know.” 

His fingertips tensed on her cheek and she opened her eyes. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to hear it. I want- I want you to hear it.”

“Then say it.” 

His breath came out like it was his last, pushing everything out with it, every thought, every word. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” And as she smiled, he took his first, coming quickly back to life. 

She kissed him with her eyes open, unbelieving that the moment was real. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

He laughed, forehead pressing into hers. “You know me. I don’t do things like this well. But Christian said-”

She froze, her shoulders tensing painfully. “Christian?” 

Dean couldn’t hear the fear in her voice, or didn’t care to, his kisses landing wherever he could reach, his hands holding her tight. “He said if I loved you, I should tell you. So… I did. I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.” 

She could barely hear him over the blood rising in her, rushing in her ears. “When...when did you talk to him?”

Dean shook his head against her throat as he lay kiss after kiss on her soft skin. “I don’t know- the other day.” 

Angry, she shoved at his shoulder, pushing him back so she could see his face. “When did you talk to him? How?”

He stammered, eyes glazed and confused. “I- when you were in the deli, you left your phone and he called.” 

Her muscles strained, flooding with panic. “And you just- answered my phone?”

“Yeah…” He didn’t see the problem, too consumed with the taste of her, the feel of her flesh beneath his lips. “It’s OK, baby, relax.” 

She felt strange, like the walls were crumbling down around her. “No. Not OK. Why did you think that was OK! You can’t just answer my phone like that, Dean!” 

“I’m sorry.” He reached for her and she pulled away. “What’s going on?” 

“You talked to him?”

“Well, he mostly just talked to me,” he shrugged, “but, yeah.” 

“He talked to you and then you tell me this and...and...and…” Her thoughts were a jumble but one thing was very clear: it was all wrong. Everything was wrong. “You can’t talk to him!” she yelled suddenly, pushing away from his grasp. “You can’t. You can’t mix with him. I can’t. You have to be. Separate. You can’t.” Her words were clipped, breath and hands shaking as she crawled away, sitting up on her knees and staring him down. “You can’t ever talk to him again. I can’t. You can’t. He’ll take you way. You can’t!”

Dean stared at her, shocked by the drastic change of atmosphere. “Whoa. Slow down.” He held up his hands and shifted on the bed, moving closer. 

She countered, falling farther away. “You can’t talk to him again! Please!” The ringing in her head was killing her and she gripped her ears, trying to block the sound of her blood pressure. It drummed louder and louder each time she looked at Dean, heard his voice. “Please!” 

“OK!” Dean grabbed her arm, but she flinched so hard she nearly fell off of the bed. “OK. I won’t talk to him again, I promise. Y/N, please. Relax.” 

There was no more relaxing, no more kisses to be shared. Y/N tore at her hair, perfect nails digging into her scalp as she tried to stop the pounding. 

“Please…”

She couldn’t tell if it was her voice or his, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered suddenly was getting away. Christian had done this to them, he was making her into something unlike herself, and now she’d let him do it to Dean. 

His voice followed her down the hallway as she ran to her room. 

Her body was trembling by the time she reached her phone, mind set on destroying all connections to Christian as soon as he answered. It was over. She was sure. It had to be that way. 

But it wasn’t. 

Christian calmed her with his words; deep voice calling her name through the chaos in her mind, pulling her back into the magical safety of his arms. 

She stared into his pale blue eyes and let go of everything, falling under his spell once more. 

“You need to go apologize to Dean,” he told her. “Go make him happy.” 

Entranced but unable to let the pain ease, Y/N shook her head. “No. I can’t. You can’t- Dean can’t-” 

“Shhh.” Christian shook his head. “Dean is important. You need to make him happy.” 

“I want to make you happy,” she said, trying to divert the conversation away from Dean. 

He smiled, his tone smoothing into a song. “And you do, my perfect Treasure.” Y/N swooned, her eyes rolling back as he used his words to trigger her body. “My Masterpiece. My good girl.” She could feel his breath on her neck, his lips on her breasts. “You love to make me happy.” 

“Yes.” 

Invisible fingers teased her clit. 

“You love to serve me, obediently, without question.” 

“Yes.” 

Phantom warmth filled her body, wrapping around her, inside and out. 

“You are my devoted slave.” 

“I am.”

Impossibly, his cock pushed into her, stretching her cunt, filling every space. 

“Everything you do serves me.” 

She moaned, hips rolling against the air. “Everything. Yes.” 

“Cum for me, my lovely girl…”


	13. Chapter 13

_  
She ran through puddles, kitten heels clicking on crumbling cobblestone. The night was cold, dark. Shadows played on the vacant buildings as she raced, looking for safety, looking for a light._

_Every door was locked, every window dark. Not a soul came to her aid even as her frantic pleas echoed through the town. The street was desolate, Y/N was alone, the monster nipping at her heels._

_His voice called to her in the darkness as the rain began to fall. “Y/N…” The clouds seemed to carry his message through the air. “You cannot run from me.”_

_She pumped her arms, knees pushing downwards as hard as they could, then springing back up. Her heart raced, she could feel it in her fingertips._

_“You cannot run from what you truly desire.”_

_She heard him coming closer, gaining on her no matter how hard she ran, how fast she moved. The space between them was closing too quickly._

_“I am what you truly desire. I am Death. I am Life. Come to me, Y/N.”_

_Rain soaked into her clothing, chilling her to the bone. It coated her face, hiding the tears, sticking her hair to her forehead and the back of her neck._

_“Be still and be fulfilled.”_

_Far ahead, she saw a light; gasoline lantern atop wrought iron. The yellow light shone like Heaven in the night, a beacon calling out for her. She used every last ounce of strength to reach it, finding a second of peace and safety as her hand curled around the freezing iron._

_He appeared out of nowhere, shining shoes skirting the halo of light on the rain soaked pavement._

_“Please,” she begged, struggling to breathe, her lungs burning, limbs weak and aching. “Please, leave me be. I beg you.”_

_The vampire stepped into the light, damp blond hair slicked back from his forehead, piercing blue eyes bright under the lamp’s blaze. Gaunt and pale, he frightened her; skin so white she could feel its chill from where she stood. He smiled warmly and opened his arms to her; the long black cloak he wore flowing down from his shoulders like a deathly waterfall._

_“Stop this nonsense, my love,” he sang, voice a deep chorus of seduction and lies that captured her mind. “Come to me.”_

_She floated, feet gliding effortlessly across the ragged stones until his arms closed around her. His prize. His desire. His._

_He kissed her lips and she swooned, her body relaxing against him, falling slack in his arms. He kissed her cheek as his fingers wound around the collar of her dress, tearing the high cut lace from her throat, exposing her supple flesh._

_She gasped and struggled, but only for a moment as his fingers caressed her throat, warming the skin for his lips._

_“No more fear,” he whispered. “No more pain.”_

_Her eyes fluttered closed as his tongue pressed against her pulse and a moan of ecstasy flowed freely when his fangs pierced her throat. She felt the sting as her breath caught; the strong pull of his lips against the wound. She felt her heart protest as the blood was stolen, each draw from his mouth forcing the muscle to work harder to feed him until even her veins screamed._

_Y/N clawed at his chest, unable to do more than hold on as he drained every drop. “Please...don’t.”_

_Christian pulled back, standing tall as she lay slack over his arm. “Don’t?” He licked at his lips, gathering up a wayward drop of crimson. “But this is what you wanted. This is what you asked for. To die and to live again; new...fresh...mine.”_

_Her eyes rolled to white, heart giving in before her mind. “Yours.”_

_“There’s my lovely girl.”_

_He dipped his head again and pulled the last dregs from deep inside, leaving not a drop behind._

_Y/N stared up at the charcoal sky, the raindrops her only friends as death took her. She sat the true light of Heaven around her vision, creeping slowly into the corners, ready to snatch her soul and take her home. She smiled at the clouds and bid a silent farewell to the world, to herself. Her eyes closed gently and the light took over._

_“Not so fast, my Treasure.”_

_Christian’s blood dripped onto her tongue, igniting her brain and body like an electric shock. Lightning flooded her system and she sat up, grabbing for his wrist, suckling against his artery with all the hunger of a starved infant._

_“There’s my beautiful girl.”_

_He pet her head, smoothing the hair back from her eyes and coddling her as she nursed, taking the magical liquid into herself, feeling every cell explode with preternatural bliss and power._

_“Now,” he said, pulling the fount away from her greedy, blood-stained lips, “now you’re truly mine. Forever.”_

Y/N woke up gasping for air, her hand instantly flying to her throat, feeling for the mark that wasn’t there. 

Christian laughed gently, watching through the camera as she sat up, flustered and confused. 

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, noting the details of her return to consciousness. The rapid fluttering of her eyelids, the deep, shaky breaths, the twitching of her hands until the feeling returned to her body. He savored every moment. 

Y/N struggled to sit up, but found it easier just to roll onto her side, tuck a hand beneath her head, and pull the laptop closer. “That was… incredible,” she gushed, cheeks flooding with heat as she bit her lip in embarrassment. Strange how good it felt to be murdered, to be sucked dry, turned into the thing she hunted. 

“Perhaps you’ll pause before you take the next vampire’s head off,” he teased. 

Y/N laughed and shook her head quickly. “Oh no. You do that and you’re really dead. Gotta strike fast and furious. Swing for the fences.” 

“Is that what Dean taught you?” 

The mention of his name was enough to push away the lingering pleasure from her dream. Y/N’s jaw clenched and she rolled onto her belly. “No. My father.”

Christian nodded. “Ah.” 

“Why do you…” Her voice died as she looked at him, afraid to anger him again. His wrath was intense and she was just getting back into his good graces. 

“Why do I, what?” 

Y/N shook her head but Christian refused to allow her to back down. 

“Tell me.” 

She sighed. “Why do you have to keep bringing him up?” Her voice was meek and shaky. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah.” Y/N cleared her throat and sat up on her knees as if it gave her some semblance of authority. “We talked about this. I asked you to stop bringing him up. I-I don’t understand your obsession with him. I just don’t want him involved with this- with us. Please.” 

Christian’s jaw twitched and she saw the beginnings of danger in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I just- he’s really important to me and you don’t understand. I- I just don’t want to discuss him with you or have you talk about him anymore. Please.” 

Anger rose in his voice. “Do you not trust in me? I told you I would leave Dean Winchester alone. I have.” 

“Yes, but-” 

A growl shut her lips tight and Y/N averted her eyes, bowing her head slightly. 

“Do not question me again. That is enough!”

She closed her eyes and tears fell silently from the corners. She grit her teeth, refusing to make a sound. She had to be good, had to sit quietly and listen. She had to be better for him; perfect. 

“What is it that you want? Be honest right now.”

Y/N choked on her tears and inhaled quickly, a stout little breath to revive her brain. “I want you,” she said honestly. “I love you. I want to be with you. I need to be yours.” 

“You are mine,” he reminded her firmly. 

“Yes but-” She chewed her lip and met his gaze, blue eyes burning into her. “I want to be yours truly, in person. I need to feel you, to be in your arms. I need to be with you. I-I’m ready to come to you.” 

Christian shook his head. “Not just yet, my dear.” 

Her heart sank.

“Listen to me, Y/N. You have come so far, made yourself so good for me. It’s almost time. But you are not truly ready yet. You need to let go of your fear, your guilt. I need you to make Dean happy. To take his fear away too so you can come to me freely. Do you understand?” 

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And Sam should be happy too, shouldn’t he?” 

Y/N sighed deeply as a smile washed over her face. The tears dried and her resistance faded. “Yeah. Sam needs to be happy too.” 

“There’s my good girl… my perfect slave. My Treasure. My Masterpiece.”


	14. Chapter 14

Dean wasn’t exactly avoiding her, but the air was tense whenever they were in the same room. He was definitely not looking at her, that much was clear, but he also wasn’t talking about it. He kept things cordial, and she was polite, but neither brought up the day before. Truth was, Y/N had already forgotten about it. 

She had no memory of her freak out, the fact that Dean and Christian had spoken. It had all been painlessly erased in the early hours of morning while Christian whispered into her head.

He spent hours upon hours playing with her like that. Using his magical voice to dance around inside of her head, taking things away, leaving other things behind. It was his playground, and Y/N gave him the keys willingly. 

He dressed her like a doll or a slut, depending on his mood; kept her constantly aroused and on edge, distracting her with mind-shattering orgasms whenever her mind began to wander back towards normal. Her face was never without makeup and a plastic smile, her stockinged feet never without the heels. Each click down the cavernous halls reminded her that Christian was with her always and that’s what she’d always wanted. To be owned, to be controlled, to never have to think for herself again. 

Sam had noticed the shift in her, as if all doubt had been washed from her mind, but he kept his queries to himself, not wanting to upset anyone. That didn’t mean he kept his nose out of the books or his fingers off the internet. Contrarily, Sam spent many hours diving into everything and anything that seemed remotely like it had to do with their current situation. One morning, he even tried a bit of spellwork himself, whispering a string of latin as he slipped a teaspoon of crushed cardamom into Y/N’s coffee to see if its thought clarifying effects would help at all. 

It did not. 

Yet still, he pressed on, deciding that the answer lay in finding out who- or what- Christian was. 

It was difficult to get any answers out of Y/N, however. Anytime Sam brought up her new beau, she immediately changed the subject, waving Sam off with a sweet laugh and a “He makes me happy” chorus that seemed like all she could say about the subject. In fact, the deeper he dug, the more attentive Y/N got, the more distracting, alluring. 

Sam spent most of Wednesday morning in the Library, stacks of dusty tomes and scattered notepaper arranged in a semicircle around him on the desk. As he blinked wearily at the page in front of him, a mug suddenly appeared, laid down by a beautiful, although rather thin, hand. 

He leaned back in the chair and looked up, momentarily forgetting that something was up with her as she smiled so sweetly down upon him. 

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” she said, turning to the desk and tidying a stack of books, making sure all the spines aligned perfectly for him. 

“I could, thanks.” Sam watched her closely as she rearranged his mess. “Hey, Y/N/N? Just wanted to ask…”

“Yes, Sam?” She nearly knocked into him as she leaned over and fixed the pile of papers. 

“The other night, you said you were breaking it off with Christian.” He paused to gauge her reaction, surprised when her spine stiffened. “Just wondering how that went.” 

Y/N stood up straight, her eyes wide and blank, staring ahead. “It was fine,” she said softly. “Everything is fine.” 

“I’m guessing you didn’t end things,” he pushed, keeping a close eye on her. 

She sighed deeply and turned around, perching on the edge of the table, her body relaxing a bit. “Didn’t have to,” she said honestly. “It’s all fixed. Everything’s wonderful.” Suspicion was clear on his face and Y/N cocked her head, looking him over. “You look stressed, Sam.”

Caught off guard, he laughed. “A bit, yeah. When am I not?” 

Y/N licked her lip slowly and reached down, dropping her hand to his knee. “It’s just part of you, I know.” Her fingers tightened as they slid up to his lean thigh. “I wish you would relax sometime…” Her hand slid higher. “...take a break…” She hopped down from the table and slipped easily into his lap, her knees locking his trim hips in place. “...have a little fun.”

Stunned but distracted, Sam’s jaw went slack as she ran her hands over his chest, her ass pressing down on his quickly growing cock. “I have f-fun…”

“Sunrise runs and working out constantly isn’t quite what I mean, Samuel.” Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp from his temples to the base of his skull. “You need to be taken care of…” A kiss on the corner of his mouth closed his eyes. “...pampered…” Her nails scratched gently and he moaned. “...loved.”

“I’m… loved,” he argued, holding in a growl as the next kiss landed on his jaw. 

“You are, Sam,” she whispered, drawing the tip of her tongue along his earlobe. “So very much.” 

Another roll of her hips snagged him completely. Sam grabbed at her, running his hands over her body above her clothes, their mouths locked together in a kiss that never seemed to end. She rode him gently, faster and faster until there was no doubt that his mind was other places than her newfound relationship. 

Y/N curled her fingers tight in his hair and pulled, forcing his head back against the seat so she could reach his throat. She kissed her way downwards, pulling husky, tightlipped moans from the depths of him until Sam could hold back no longer. 

“If I don’t fuck you now, I’m gonna lose it,” he confessed in a rush, reaching for her hips with his big hands. 

Y/N bit her lip and climbed off of him, quickly slipping her panties off and hopping back up onto the table. Her skirt bunched up around her hips and she spread herself wide, Sam’s eyes locked on the wetness dripping from her beautiful cunt.

“Need you, Sam,” she cooed; a familiar plea that never failed to rev him up. 

He dropped his jeans and attacked, one strong arm holding her as she leaned back, the other guiding his cock into her. 

Y/N came almost instantly, her body pulsing hard around him as he thrust in deep. She was constantly on edge, always ready to be fucked, and Sam’s cock received a welcome like none other. 

“Fuck!” He grit his teeth as she milked him, his nails digging into her flesh, hips slamming hard against her. 

“Use me, Sam,” she whispered, eyes glazed and pupils huge. She held onto him, one small hand on the nape of his neck. “Use me.” 

Wooden legs creaked as the table was jerked back in little clips while Sam thrust into her again and again. He lost himself in the motion, body slamming into hers, mouths crashing together, breaths hot and quick. 

Sam collapsed as he came, panting heavily as he kissed the crook of her neck. Y/N hugged him tight, rubbing a soothing pattern into his thick shoulders as he came down, his wetness already sliding from her pussy. 

“Feel better?” she asked; a breath before a kiss against his ear. 

He grumbled an affirmative and pulled away, sinking back into his chair to collect himself. He watched with glassy eyes and a sweaty brow as Y/N hopped down from the table and righted her skirt, smoothing out the creases and making sure her outfit was in place. From the floor, she picked up her discarded panties and dipped between her legs, wiping his cum from her thigh. With a smirk, she tossed the tiny cotton undies into Sam’s lap and walked away. 

“See?” she called over her shoulder as her heels clicked up the stairs. “A little fun never hurt nobody.” 

It took Sam more than a moment to regroup and even as his breath returned, the worry did not. He shook his head at the stacks of books and his hastily scribbled notes and laughed, wondering why he’d been making such a fuss. 

“Everything’s fine,” he said, echoing her words. “Everything’s fine.”


	15. Chapter 15

_  
Y/N stepped out of the bar and into the cool night air. It was refreshing, if not chilly, after the crowded, dewy air inside. The stench of stale beer and body odor vanished as she shut the door, replaced by the sting of cigarette smoke._

_She turned to her left to see a tall figure leaning against the building, his face in shadow, lit only slightly by the burning end of the fag as he took a deep pull._

_“Nice night,” he said, exhaling a stream of gray into the night._

_Y/N nodded and smiled politely. “Yeah. Chilly.” A breeze nipped at her bare arms and she hugged herself, wondering why she’d gone out without a jacket. She turned away from the man, ready to leave, and she heard him shift behind her._

_“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice was deep and cracking. He took another drag, letting it out slowly as Y/N looked back over her shoulder._

_“No thanks,” she said kindly. “I’m done for the night.” Even in shadow, she could see his eyes, locked on her body, dangerously staring. She gave him a little wave, ending their conversation, and he flicked his cigarette into the street before waving back._

_“Take care…”_

_Y/N shivered as she turned her back on him; it was never easy being a woman alone, especially at night, particularly when a strange man showed an interest._

_She parked too far away, she realized that now. Her heels clicked quickly on the sidewalk as she hurried from the bar, body on alert, mind and heart racing. Something made her turn and look back at the bar, and when she did, she saw the man was gone. Her stomach tightened with fear and her feet responded, moving faster through the night towards her car._

_A whistle broke the quiet night and Y/N froze as it echoed through the empty street. She turned in a full circle, trying to find the source, but there was no one, nothing around. It echoed again and she panicked, right foot pushing off from the hard ground, ready to run._

_A rough hand grabbed her hair, yanking her back even as that foot pushed, and Y/N screamed, falling backwards into a solid wall of muscle._

_“Help!”_

_The hand in her hair moved to cover her mouth and Y/N screamed into the huge palm as a needle pierced her neck. Her eyes went wide as she struggled to break free, but the plunger fell and Y/N felt her legs go limp. It started in her feet, the drugs making her muscles relax, inch by inch, climbing higher until she felt it in her chest, her heartbeat slowing, thudding, painful and loud in her ears. The hand on her mouth moved away and Y/N’s jaw dropped in a scream that wouldn’t release. Silence rang around her and the stranger lifted her in his arms as her eyes fell shut._

_She woke up from the pain; her own screams pulling her out of the drugged twilight. Her eyes sprang open as the knife twisted in her gut, blood spilling from the wound, dripping down her bare flesh onto the cold slab beneath her._

_“Please!”_

_Y/N gasped as the knife was pulled away and she struggled to move. Leather straps across her chest and legs held her tight to the table; a blinding operation room light above burned her eyes as she tried to focus._

_“Please?” The man mocked, moving into her line of sight, a fresh, shining scalpel in hand. “This is what you wanted,” he told her, twirling the blade between deft fingers. “You begged for this. To be changed. To be upgraded, transformed.”_

_The room around her came into view: multiple computers sat on a table to her left, charts and hastily scribbled notes and diagrams were taped to the bloodstained walls. Instruments and wires, power tools and random machines littered the room, everything stained with old blood, memories of experiments gone wrong._

_Y/N felt the blood draining from her gut. “I-I don’t want this, please! Who are you?”_

_“Shhh…” The scalpel touched her lips and Y/N froze. “No more talking.”_

_Shaking against the straps, Y/N held her breath as the blade traveled down to her chest, pushing against her breastbone._

_“Now… hold still…”_

Y/N turned with a smile as Dean walked into the kitchen. She held a plate of waffles in her hands, complete with a giant mountain of whipped cream on top. 

He couldn’t look away even though he wanted to, his growling stomach wouldn’t let him. 

“Good morning!” she greeted, perfectly painted red lips spreading into a warm smile. “I made you a special treat.” 

Dean nodded, eyes still on the plate. “I can see that.” He debated leaving, turning around in a huff without breakfast, but the golden stack looked so enticing. “Been up long?” 

Y/N walked to the table, heels clicking gently on the tiled floor, and set the plate down at Dean’s usual place. “For a while,” she replied, smile still screwed into place, eyes wide and dark. “I wanted to make sure you had a good breakfast.” 

Dean eyed her suspiciously and grabbed a mug, filling it with fresh coffee. He took a whiff, then a sip, nearly moaning at the taste. “Is this...why is this so good?” he asked, staring down at the dark brew. 

Y/N laughed gently and smoothed her skirt down as she sat. “I snuck out early and went to a beanery in Stockton. Thought we should grind our own beans, keep things fresh.” 

Dean raised a brow. “You drove an hour to get coffee beans?”

“Well, two, round trip,” she corrected with a smile. “Sit. Eat.” Y/N patted the table next to his plate. 

“What’s wrong with my Foldgers?” 

“Nothing. You just deserve the best.” 

Dean sat and sighed. Everything was great but everything was wrong. “Y/N...I-” He looked up and lost his train of thought as he stared at her face. “What’s...different with your head?” 

Y/N laughed and ran a hand over her hair. “I have bangs! Do you like them?”

He struggled to reply. 

“Christian said they would frame my face better, so I had them done last night.” She began to ramble on, not realizing Dean was utterly freaked out. “Also, thinking about going blonde? Christian says it would look nice. He likes blondes. I don’t know that it’ll work with my coloring, but maybe a few highlights to start and see how it feels. What do you think?” 

Dean blinked rapidly to clear his mind and reached for her hand, which she gave without hesitation. 

“Y/N/N, this is… beyond weird. You-”

She pouted and pulled her hand from his. “Everything’s wonderful, Dean. I promise. Now...eat up. I need to clean up that big mess I made.” She laughed and pointed over her shoulder at the two bowls sitting on the counter. 

Giving up, but keeping his eye on her, Dean stuck his fork through the waffle stack and came back up with a giant bite. The whipped cream hit his tongue and he melted, letting out a moan of happiness. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, shoving the waffle into the pocket of his cheek. “This is amazing. Is this-”

Y/N turned around from the sink, holding up a whisk. “Real whipped cream from scratch?” she asked for him with a grin. “Sure is. Do you like?” 

Green eyes were huge. “I love. Holy crap.” 

“I’m so glad.” 

Y/N hummed as she washed the dishes, some old love song that Dean couldn’t place. He watched her as he ate, eyes never leaving her until he heard the scrape of his fork against the empty plate. Y/N heard it too, and came back to the table to retrieve the dish, her eyes blank, smile fixed in place. 

“Why don’t you go relax, Dean? I’ll finish up in here,” she offered, reaching for the plate. 

His fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Y/N, we need to talk.” 

She shook her head and wrenched her wrist away. “Later. I have chores.” She was back at the sink before he could stand, running the plate under the hot water. “Which reminds me, I have a dark load ready to be washed, so if you want to get your socks out of the sofa I’ll toss them in.” Dean stood behind her, needing her to listen. “You know what? Never mind, I’ll fish them out.” 

He set his hand on her hip and she stiffened. “You don’t have to do my laundry, Y/N.”

She spun in his arms and chuckled strangely. “Of course I do, silly.” She lay a hand on his chest, swatting him playfully. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

Dean’s stomach dropped. “That’s not what you’re here for,” he insisted, voice crackling as worry crept into every inch of him. “You’re not our maid.” 

“Of course I’m not your maid,” she laughed again. “But you boys have jobs to do and so do I. I enjoy it.” 

She pushed at his chest, trying to move him out of her way, but Dean was a solid wall. 

“Y/N, I don’t like this. This whatever’s going on with you.” 

She flinched. “Nothing’s going on with me,” she said coldly. “I’m very happy.” She batted her eyes up at him, but the look was all wrong. She was a parody of herself, a stiff, robotic version that set off alarm bells in his gut. “I want you to be happy too, Dean.” She purred his name and pushed up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips, slowly urging him to return the affection. 

He shook his head but she insisted, reaching up and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck as her tongue slipped through his lips. 

“Baby, no…” His hands fell to her hips, shocked for a moment at the feel of her bones poking through. “We have to discuss this-” 

“Shhh.” Y/N slid a hand through his hair, scratching lightly behind his ear as her other hand dropped between their bodies. “Relax, Dean.” 

She pawed at his crotch, rocking her body against his and nibbling on his right ear. His thoughts melted as the blood rushed downwards, and though he tried to bat her hand away, she was too insistent, too good at it, knowing where every one of his buttons were and just how to press them. 

Dean leaned back against the counter as she dropped to her knees, carefully opening his jeans. She pulled his cock from his shorts and licked him slowly from tip to base. 

“Fuck.” His head rolled back on his shoulders as she fit her tight lips around him and sucked. He grew hard in her mouth and began to thrust forward, his body taking over as his mind emptied of suspicion and worry. So she changed her hair and drove out of town to get him coffee. She was happy, right? 

He looked down, watching her work, biting his lip as she stroked his cock with her entire mouth, using every muscle and inch to drive him insane. His heart raced as she opened her eyes and met his gaze, his body spasming as he came, shooting down her willing throat. 

Y/N licked him clean and gently tucked him away, leaving only a ring of bright red lipstick behind. 

“Better?” she asked as he helped her back to her feet. 

Dean nodded, eyes heavy and hazy. He sighed happily and smiled. “So good.” 

Y/N grinned and patted his cheek. “Good. You should start every day with a yummy breakfast and a good orgasm. Now, go lay down and I’ll get this place tidied up.” 

She was gone before he could protest, his mind a fog as the blood redistributed properly through his body. “Yeah,” he said to himself, adjusting his jeans. “Everything’s fine…”


	16. Chapter 16

There was a face in the mirror, but she didn’t remember it as hers. There really was no ‘Y/N’ anymore, that was just the name she answered to. Inside, everything had changed. There was barely a thought in her head that didn’t begin or end with Christian. Not a flame of an idea was sparked whose flint wasn’t struck by Christian, not a dream that he didn’t give her, not a single piece of her that wasn’t wholly devoted to him. Except for one. 

Christian tried again and again to remove Dean Winchester from her mind, but each time he dug his claws in deeper, she retreated, pushing away the idea that Dean or Sam should be in any way taken from her life. So he adjusted, changing her desires until she chose to appease them, give them the love they needed from her. He used her to get to them and visa versa. It was all working out so well. 

Y/N smiled at her reflection and carefully applied the thick line of paint over her right eyelid. He wanted dark and sultry today, so she dragged the eyeliner past her lid and swept it high. It made her lashes pop beautifully. Funny, how she used to hate putting makeup on. Now, she spent more than an hour getting ready everyday; doing her hair, applying lotions, makeup, taking care of herself. She had to be the best for Him. She wanted to. So she was. 

The Library was quiet but for the sound of fingers on keyboards and Sam’s occasional hums of interest as he read. 

After the fourth ‘huh’, Dean looked up over his laptop and glared. 

“You gonna share with the class or just keep moaning over there?” 

Sam blushed hard and scoffed. “I’m not- moaning. I think I found something.” 

“About…” Dean glanced over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. “Him?”

“No.” Sam shook his head and squinted at the screen. “Well, maybe. But no, I don’t think so.” 

“Damnit.” 

“You remember Martin Olsen?” 

Dean’s nose scrunched up as he raked through his brain. “The dude who was flipped inside out?” 

Sam nodded. “Yup. So get this- two bodies found outside of Kratstown, Ohio with-”

“Insides on the outside?” Dean finished for him, a slight laugh evident in his smile.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You could try not to grin about it.” 

“It’s just fun to say.” He sat back in his seat and kicked his boots up onto the table. “Anyway- didn’t we kill that bitch?” 

“We did. Which is weird because-” 

Again, Sam was cut off with the arrival of Y/N carrying a serving tray. She was dressed like she had a date; tight black dress showing off her new overly trim figure, neckline dipped so low that Dean’s mouth went dry. 

Neither could look away. 

“Lunch break!” she announced, carefully setting the tray down at the head of the table. “Salad with cranberry vinaigrette and walnuts for my little bunny,” she said, handing Sam a bowl of exquisitely arranged greens. 

“Wow. Thank you.” He looked to Dean who was preoccupied staring at the sandwich left on the tray. 

“And for my chipmunk...” She smiled at Dean. “Grilled cheese with bacon and caramelized onions.” She set the plate down in front of him and leaned close, whispering in his ear, “I also did the thing with the cheese on the outside…” 

Dean’s eyes rolled in lustful anticipation as she kissed his cheek. “You are...too good to me,” he laughed, quickly grabbing up the grilled cheese and breaking it apart to take a bite. “Holy shit.” 

“Good?” 

He hummed in absolute agreement and shoved another giant bite into his mouth. 

“Who’s moaning now?” Sam teased. 

“Shuddup.” 

Y/N walked around the table and perched on the chair next to Sam. “So where are we headed?” 

Dean swallowed hard and lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know we’re going anywhere?” 

She shrugged and pulled Sam’s computer close. “You’ve just got that look of glee on your face. Figured we had a case.” 

Sam set down his fork. “We do, but…”

She turned to him with an expectant gaze.

“I was thinking maybe you should sit this one out,” he finished, much to her dismay. 

“You… don’t want me?” Tears pushed up into her eyes and Sam cringed. 

“No, I just- I thought you could use a rest.” 

“But...I’m part of the team,” she went on, voice breaking and bottom lip pushing into a pathetic pout. “Don’t you guys want me anymore?” 

Dean dropped his food and reached for her hand. “Of course we do.” He glared at Sam. “You’re coming with us. Always. She’s coming with us, Sam.” 

Her smile returned instantly and Y/N popped up from her chair and kissed Sam’s cheek. “Yeay! OK. I’ll go pack.” Her heels sounded like tiny drums as she rushed over to Dean and kissed him as well. “Thank you! Enjoy your lunch!” 

The boys waited until the clicking died down the hallway. 

“What the hell, Dean!” Sam whispered harshly over his salad. “She’s not right. She needs to be-” 

Dean growled. “What she needs is to not be left alone like this. Who the hell knows what’ll happen. If she comes with us, we can keep an eye on her.” 

Sam sighed and leaned back, scratching at his cheek where her lipstick had stuck. “Yeah, you’re right.” He stared off towards the bedrooms and bit his lip. “Maybe we get two rooms this time though. Just in case.” 

“In case what?” Dean snit, licking cheese off of his thumb. Sam shrugged but Dean noticed the redness in his cheeks. “Oh, she got you too, huh?” 

Sam looked away, embarrassed and cleared his throat. “It was really hot.”

Dean looked the other way and sighed. “Yeah, it was. She got me in the kitchen after breakfast. Fuck.” He smiled; the dreamy memory washing over him. “You?” 

Sam didn’t answer, chewing the inside of his cheek and looking down at the table where Dean was set up. 

“Where Sam?” 

Hazel eyes grew a little wider and he stared at Dean’s plate. 

Dean pouted. “Where Sam? Where?” 

Dimples popped and a grin erupted. “I think you know.” 

Dean’s jaw dropped along with the remains of his sandwich. “Oh, come on!” He tried to lose his appetite out of principle, but the toasted cheddar on the outside of the bread called to him and he shrugged. “Oh well, what can ya do?”


	17. Chapter 17

Samantha West and Ronald Fisher were turned fully inside out from head to toe. Their ribs were cracked wide, skin peeled and pulled back like a book jacket. It had so unnerved the town’s coroner, that he up and left his position after the second body came in, stating “I have never seen anything like this in forty years on the job and to see it twice is more than enough”. He was seven months from his pension. 

The Winchesters followed every clue, tracked down eye witnesses, interviewed practically everyone in town, all with Y/N in tow. She was happy to walk behind them, stand wherever they asked, and generally keep herself quiet while they worked. It should have been demeaning, and in fact, Sam hated doing it, but they had to keep her close. She was acting stranger by the minute. 

She had come in handy a few times, charming the pants off a few indignant older men who refused to answer questions posed by the handsome Feds, but happy to flirt with their female partner while the boys looked around their homes. 

It had also been Y/N who found the hex bags at each crime scene and pointed out that The Widow Fisher seemed a little too fond of herbs, specifically, the burning of herbs. The house reeked of sage and marjoram, which seemed obvious to Y/N as Dean had an allergy attack on the spot, sneezing his head off until he stepped outside into the fresh air. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious?” she asked, handing Dean a tissue from her purse. 

He wiped the tears from his burning eyes and then blew his nose. “I guess. Damned if I’m going back in there, though. Sam can handle this one.” A huge sneeze took him by surprise, but Y/N was ready with a second tissue. 

Anytime Y/N was alone, she was on her phone. If neither Winchester were speaking to her directly, she was talking to Christian. She texted him at every stop, letting him know where she was and that she loved him. She sent him a selfie every time she was in the bathroom, progressively showing off more skin as the day went on. Her mind was split, not quite in half, but a good seventy/thirty. She was on the job, helping as much as she could, but her thoughts were far off, her mind and spirit lost in Christian’s big arms. The daydreams were intense, and more than once, Sam had to physically shake her to rouse her from a trance as she stared off at nothing. 

Mrs. Fisher was disposed of easily; Sam firing off a single witch-killing bullet without any trouble. It was almost cliche; too easy, he thought, and he felt a pang of guilt taking out the poor old woman, witch or no. She hadn’t even put up a fight.

“She didn’t even try to fight me,” he recounted over dinner. 

From across the table, Y/N shook her head sympathetically. “She was a witch, Sam. We kill them, remember?” 

He stabbed at the mushy peas in his plate. “Yes, but-”

“So, job well done!” She cut him off as she slipped her right foot from her shoe and placed it between his thighs on the booth. She slipped down a bit to reach, and Sam swallowed a little too hard as she rubbed his sack. “Don’t worry so much.” 

Oblivious, Dean choked down a handful of overly done french fries. “Yeah. Just be glad we can get outta here now.” 

Sam couldn’t answer, his jaw dropping with a quick exhale as Y/N rolled her foot up and down over his cock. His eyes nearly crossed as she pushed harder and Dean cleared his throat. 

“You OK?” 

“Mhm.” Sam nodded quickly and sat up, brushing Y/N’s foot away and taking a calming breath. “Fine.” 

She huffed but shook it off quickly, sliding from the booth and grabbing her purse. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment, I need to visit the Ladies’.” 

Dean waved and snuck the pickle off of her plate. “She’s in a good mood,” he muttered, shoving too much food into his mouth at once. 

Sam ignored his disgusting table manners and watched as Y/N floated towards the restrooms. When the hallway door shut, he snapped at Dean. 

“She was- touching me,” he grit. 

“When?”

“Just now. Under the table.”

Dean burped. “Lucky bastard.” 

“No. She’s out of control. Haven’t you noticed, anytime we talk about something she doesn’t want to talk about she… ya know…”

“Polishes the pole?”

Sam nodded. 

“Gives ya the Memphis Dry Rub?”

Sam cringed. 

“Manhandles the salami?” 

“Stop.” 

“Little… Sinner’s Handshake?”

“Where are you getting these?” 

“Creams your dill?” Dean took a bite of the pickle, making sure it snapped loudly between his teeth. 

Sam gagged. “Are you done?” 

Dean nodded affirmatively. 

Sam shook himself and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Yes. All that.” 

“I’ve noticed.” Dean’s smirk faded. “I’ve also noticed…” He leaned in just in case she came back unnoticed like the ninja she was. “I can’t stop once she’s… grabbed the manicotti.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Will you stop with the food slang?”

“Fine. I can’t stop once she’s grabbed my dick. Happy, Sammy?” 

Another deep shudder and Sam took a deep breath, pushing the image away. “I know. Neither can I. She’s just so…”

“Hot.”

“Yeah, and-”

“Possessed?” 

Sam frowned. “I don’t think she’s possessed. Definitely under some kind of spell.” 

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat back. “So what do we do? I tried talking to that- asshat, but it didn’t go well.” He shivered at the thought as a strange feeling crept down his spine. “Did not go well at all.”

“And I’ve looked him up as best I could. There’s nothing on him anywhere.” 

“Dude’s not a ghost,” Dean argued. “There’s gotta be something.” 

“I don’t know.” Sam pushed his plate away and sat back as well, looking from the restroom door to his brother and back. “I think we get her home and…” He dragged a hand down his face, hating himself for even thinking it. 

Dean read his mind easily, because he’d been thinking it too. “We’re not locking her up, Sam.” 

“I think we have to. Just until something breaks. We can go through her computer, her phone, find out who he is, what he’s been doing to her.” 

Dean shook his head. “I’m not chaining Y/N up in the freakin’ dungeon, man. Not doing it.” 

Sam leaned in. “I don't think we have a choice. I can’t control myself around her. Neither can you, not that you ever have.”

“I think I’m supposed to resent that.” 

“You are.” 

Dean grinned. “Nope. I’m not ashamed.” 

“The point is,” Sam pushed, his blood pressure rising higher than he cared for. “We have to do something, now. And this is the best idea we’ve got.” 

Dean sighed and dropped his forearms on the table. “Fine. But let the record show- this was your idea.” 

“What’s your idea?” Y/N appeared suddenly, poised like a supermodel over Dean’s shoulder. She leaned against the booth and bit the corner of her cherry lips as Sam jumped a bit at her arrival. 

“Pie!” Dean said, covering up his brother’s dumbfounded look. “Sam agrees. We need pie.” 

Y/N laughed. “Of course you need pie, silly goose!” Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, leaving a perfect kiss shadow behind. “How ‘bout we get it to go?” she suggested, standing up slowly so they could both appreciate the valley between her tits. “I need to get out of this dress.” She gave Sam a wink and his jeans grew just a little bit tighter. 

“Sounds good,” Dean replied, kicking Sam under the table. “Get one of each.” 

Y/N grinned “Sure thing, sexy.” 

When she was gone, seated at the counter, one leg beneath her ass so she could lean over and flirt with the waiter, Dean snapped at his brother. 

“Ya know, for someone who basically lies for a living, you’re kinda shit at it.” 

Sam stammered. “I-she-just- This is what I’m talking about! How much do you think she heard?” 

Dean licked his lips, dreaming suddenly of eating the pie out of her pussy. “I don’t know, but we really do need to get her out of that dress…” Sam clapped his hands in front of Dean’s face and the reaction was instant and ridiculous. “I’m just sayin’!”


	18. Chapter 18

She was out of the dress sooner than either could imagine, emerging from the motel bathroom in a petal pink nightie that neither man had seen before. The white lace trim framed her breasts perfectly, the thin fabric leaving very little to the imagination, covering enough to be innocent looking while sheer enough to expose her hard, ruddy nipples and the tiny thong covering her cunt. 

Y/N stood in the doorway, biting her glossy lip, waiting for either man to call her over. Dean got an innocent pout while Sam received an eye-fucking that surpassed the deviance in any sexual encounter he’d ever had, Ruby included.

Dean licked the cherry goo from his fork and nodded his way, but Sam had already scooted over in bed, making room for her. 

She hopped onto the mattress and lay on her side, staring at Dean as Sam snuggled up behind her, kissing her bare shoulder. 

“How’s the pie?” she asked, her eyes filling with hazy lust as Sam slid his hand slowly down her side.

Dean stared, slack jawed and a little bit more than aroused. “Is good. Good pie. Pie-pie is good. You?” 

Y/N laughed, tossing her head back and cocking her elbow to lean on. “Oh, I’m amazing,” she cooed, breath deepening as Sam’s fingers slipped beneath her gown. “You should be too…”

Dean licked his lips and dropped the empty plate on the nightstand between the beds, sliding his legs off the side as he did. His shorts rode up a bit, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she opened her mouth and slowly ran her tongue around the circle of her plump lips, staring like a starving animal at his cock. 

Sam shifted, bending himself around her to press his erection against her ass as he grabbed her tits. She moaned, eyes still locked on Dean. His blood boiled even as he tried to resist, telling himself he needed to stay calm, not let her get to him again. He had to be strong. 

Y/N bit her lip and reached for him. 

Christian’s voice echoed in his head. _“Don’t you want her to be loved and cherished and happy?”  
_  
He answered blindly. “Yes.”

Sam tweaked her nipple and she let out the most alluring sound Dean had ever heard. He fell to his knees between the beds and grabbed her face, pulling her lips to his. She let him take the lead, shoving his tongue into her hot mouth, breathing for her, holding her tight. Her hand slid down into his shorts and Dean gasped into her as her fingers wrapped like silk around his cock. 

“Fuck.” He pulled away, back arching as she stroked him gently. 

“That’s the plan,” she teased, tightening the circle of her fingers over his swelling head. She pulsed her fist and his jaw twitched, eyes fluttering closed as he gave in. 

Sam rolled his hips against her ass and shoved one knee between her thighs, spreading her legs for his selfish desires. Long fingers covered her pussy, pushing aside the barely-there thong to dip into the wetness waiting for him. 

“Always so fucking wet,” he growled, teeth nipping her ear. 

“Good girls are always wet,” she chanted almost mindlessly, her voice dying beneath heavy breaths as he tapped her clit. 

Dean grabbed for her tits as she stroked him faster, reaching beneath the sheer fabric to pinch each nipple, tugging hard enough to make her whimper. “You’re always so good, aren’t you?” 

Her eyes rolled. “Yeah. Gotta be a good girl,” she mewed, body trembling as Sam pressed two fingers into her slick cunt. “Gotta be the best, gotta be good...gotta be good.” 

Dean caressed her cheek. “You are, Y/N/N. So fucking good.”   
_  
“...loved…”  
_  
Dean dropped down again to kiss her panting lips, wanting to be closer to her, needing to feel her all around and inside of him. Her tongue sent shivers through his body as she kissed him back, her thumb tracing the rim around the tip of his cock with gentle precision. 

Pushing Sam away, Y/N rolled onto her back and opened her arms for Dean. Sam moved aside and Dean slid into place between her legs, wrapping his arms around her as they kissed. Not to leave Sam out, Y/N gripped his cock with her free hand and stroked him firmly, listening for the telltale signs of the monster about to burst free. 

Sam’s lust was unrelenting and he attacked, shoving his brother aside to take what he needed. Y/N lay back, her eyes fluttering to slits whenever their hands landed on her flesh, opening wide as the pleasure flooded her system, closing tight as bliss ran its course in her veins. 

Y/N lay on her back, spread wide for them both. Sam set himself up by the pillows, thrusting his hips against her face, sliding his cock over her eager lips. She licked and sucked as best she could, wetting his massive length with every pass. Dean spread her cunt with gentle fingers and suckled on her clit, fingers and lips working her into a frenzy, her moans vibrating against Sam’s dick.   
_  
“...cherished…”_

Face covered in her slick cum, Dean urged Y/N onto her hands and knees, cradling her ass as she got into position. She moaned happily as they took their places, rocking backwards onto nothing, her cunt begging to be filled. Drool fell from her lips as she looked up at Sam, wide eyed and empty, waiting, praying to be used.

“Please,” she whimpered, wiggling her body, aching for their touch. 

Sam traced her cheek with his thumb and hooked it into her mouth, easily prying her lips open. “There’s a good girl,” he praised as he ran the dripping tip of his cock over her already swollen lips. “So good.” 

She shivered and set her mouth into the perfect circle for him, an opening he did not hesitate to fill.

“The best,” Dean added, guiding his cock gently into her cunt, feeling her instantly tighten around him. She felt ready to cum again, so hot, so wet, he nearly let go with her. “Fuck.”

Y/N cried out around Sam’s cock as Dean pushed inside; the brothers impaling her from both ends, giving her what she’d always wanted, always needed. There were rules, but rules were so oft broken, especially when she was so needy, so beautiful. 

Dean ran his hand lovingly down her spine, watching as her body moved to his touch, every inch of her responding to him, every part of her becoming his for just one moment in time.

He could feel himself ready to go, that tightness in his gut that told him he was past the point of no return. “You gotta cum with me, baby,” he whispered, leaning over her just enough to make sure she heard him over Sam’s grunting and her own heavy breaths. He reached around and strummed at her clit, rubbing fast, making her rock back onto him, her thighs burning as she worked both men at the same time. 

She screamed around Sam’s cock as the orgasm struck, her body tensing from all sides, every muscle contracting to its smallest point and then relaxing with an intensity that flooded her system with total bliss. Dean lost control, hands gripping her hips as he slammed into her erratically, forcing her mouth further down Sam’s cock. 

In the end, she lay on top of Sam, wrapped in his safe arms. She was too weak to move, too spent to speak; her ear pressed to his heart, listening closely to the internal drum as she drifted off to sleep. Dean managed to pull himself away, collapsing back on his bed, eyes fluttering closed as he stared at Y/N. She sighed as she fell asleep, a warm smile pulling on her puffy lips.

Dean smiled and shut his eyes. 

_“...happy.”_

Y/N worked in absolute silence as she dressed, the light from her cell phone her only guide in the dark room. She stepped cautiously on the plush carpet, listening for Sam’s slow, deep breaths and Dean’s rhythmic snores. They were out cold, each tucked in, naked beneath heavy blankets. They’d be out for a while. 

She left everything behind but her phone and her pocket knife, slipping out of the motel room and gently closing the door before sliding into her heels. She stood, tall and confident in the three a.m. blackness and walked away, not a thought or a last glance back as she passed the Impala. Not a thing in her mind but one. Her new mission. Her destiny. Her purpose. 

He had laid the plans long ago, implanting the directions in her mind, the desire to come to him, the need. When Y/N had overheard Sam’s plan to lock her up when they returned to the Bunker, she knew it was time to leave. Nothing, not Heaven, Hell, or Winchester was going to take her away from Him. She needed to be with Him, needed to escape her world and fall down into His. 

So she did.


End file.
